


Everything (And Nothing, All In One)

by Atalto



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, Aged down Shiro for the sake of the plot line, Alcoholism, Angst, Bad Parenting, Blood, Death, Established Kallura, Everything Everything au, Flashbacks, Fluff, Forbidden Romance, Minor Character Death, Multi, Panic Attacks, Road Traffic Accidents, Romance, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Texting, Violence, im not creative, severe combined immunodeficiency, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11950683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atalto/pseuds/Atalto
Summary: Takashi Shirogane lives in a castle of glass, wood, metal, and concrete in an unsuspecting suburb of Southern California.He hasn't been outside in eighteen years.If he did, he would die. There's no arguing that fact.He doesn't even want to die, not until someone moves in next door that makes him want to change everything.(based on the book and film Everything, Everything by Nicola Yoon)





	1. Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for a Shance AU that literally no one asked for??
> 
> I know I have the WORST track record with chaptered fics but I think I've got a foolproof plan this time!  
> (and I'm slightly more experienced in Ficwriting now lmao)  
> Also this basically follows the plot of the film, I know, I have no creativity leave me be.
> 
> Enjoy!

Glass is cold when you touch it.

  
Wood is less cold, more like room temperature and dry when it hasn't been raining.

  
Metal is cold.

  
The walls of the sun room, a mixture of all three, are cold despite the bright sunshine outside, cold despite the people that walk past in shorts and sleeveless tops. No matter where Shiro puts his hand on the wall, it is cold, and the spell of being outside is broken.

  
Sometimes, if he's feeling brave or particularly bored, he would collapse back onto a sterile, plush sofa, and imagine the way that he thinks sunlight would feel on his skin; warm and cocooning like a blanket of only the softest wool, and the heat would heal the ever-present ache in his prosthetic, his head, his body.

  
If he dares to think past that, past the sunlight that caresses his scarred skin, past the foliage that surrounds and welcomes, past the undergrowth that cracks and scuttles under bare feet or stained socks, he reaches a beach. He doesn't know which beach - probably just a random one he saw in a stock photo one day - but he considers it his.

  
White sands that stretch on for as long as he can see, and feel grainy and hot beneath his feet. It burns, but it's a nice burn, grounds him. The rush of the waves is the only noise apart from the wind that rustles through palm trees and low-lying bushes, creating a soft whisper that swirls around the beach. At the bottom of the sand is the sea itself; it's unreal, a shade of blue that Shiro didn't think was physically possible without brightening photo filters, mixed with verdant shades and the glitter of reflected light.

  
Sometimes there are faceless people on this beach, families with screaming children on bright towels, love-obsessed couples basking in the sun's heat, older folk asleep on wooden deck chairs like something out of a Victorian watercolour.

  
Most times, like this time, there is no one.

  
Shiro is alone.

  
He doesn't care.

  
Sea water is a beast all of its own, untameable and relentless, rushing around his feet and making him feel a level of soul-deep clean that filtered tap water and antibacterial salt scrubs just can't reach.

It's cold at first, juxtaposing the sand in the same way his skin does against cold glass, but as soon as he's used to the cooler temperatures, he's in, wading courageously into the depths of everything his mother has spent his life guarding him from.

Currents spin and snatch around his legs as his upper body becomes submerged as well, and when the rocks and pebbles drop away from under his feet, he floats. Tips his head back, feels the ocean mingle in his hair and sting his eyes when the waves get high enough to cover his face.

Here, the metal stuck to his stump of an arm cannot drag him down like it does in the pool in the basement, and he lets his toes breach the surface. Waves lap over his chin and his stomach, washing him with a peace that seemed to settle in his bones. If he dares to open his eyes in the bright light, all he can see is the endless blue of the sky, reaching from horizon to horizon, and punctuated with wispy clouds that drift as lazily as he does.

  
At some point, a breeze picks up, carrying the scent of seaweed and brine into his nostrils until they're the only things he can smell and taste.

  
He dunks his head under again, feels the water on his cheeks and the burn of his lungs crying for oxygen. Gasping breaths make him feel alive, and the release that finally breathing gives him washes over his body in the form of heady adrenaline.

  
If there's fish in his daydream, they'll swarm around him, schools of silvery scales and almost alien appearances. Those brave enough will nibble at his heels and the drawstrings of his swimming shorts, and those that aren't observe from the pack at a distance. He doesn't move, doesn't twitch a muscle in fear of scaring these jumpy creatures, instead letting them move around him like he's a rock or a piece of debris that's been floating for days.

  
He thinks he could live with that, being a rock instead of a human, especially if that rock gets to float through the sea all day.  
Sometimes he'd rather be anyone but him.

  
He hears the hiss of the 'airlock' opening piercing through his daydream like a nail gun, loud and abrasive against the forgiving whisper of the sea, and suddenly he isn't floating anymore.

There's no water around him, just pillows of unrecognisable hypoallergenic material, and his worn swimming shorts are replaced with one of his many sets of irradiated cotton white shirts and trousers. He isn't even warm anymore, the regulated room temperature is a constant that creates a chill of disappointment instead of glowing warmth, and the only water he hears is the squeak of a tap as his mother washes from her hands any connection to the outside world.

He forgot she was coming home from the hospital early today, ditching her doctors job to spend the day with him for his birthday; they'll probably spend it watching nonsensical retro films and playing board games until well into the night, much like any other day.

  
When everyday is the same, there's little to be excited about on birthdays.

But Shiro understands, he really does. He hates it, wants to rage against his mother for being so protective and careful for his life, but he understands. If he were to step outside like he does in his daydreams, he would die, plain and simple. He'd catch some virus within seconds, or a bacterium would squirm its way into his bloodstream, and he would die.  
He hates it, but he doesn't want to die.

  
Not yet.

* * *

 

Shiro realised a long time ago that living with severe combined immunodeficiency wasn't a complete walk in the park.

Some people he's come across on the internet constantly complain about how they can't just live in their house forever; Shiro tells them about his life, which promptly earns him the usual middle-fingered salute that he's come to accept from strangers on tumblr for ruining their 'fun', but it's water off his back.

He's (mostly) content with reading, working out, jacking off to unobtainable people, and rewatching every episode of Friends at least three times a year. On certain days, he works on an online architecture class, and on others, he watches open Skype lectures on theoretical physics and the ideas of reaching the edges of our solar system.

One day, he wants to be an astronaut; he's lived in one house for eighteen years, he can certainly live in a space shuttle for six months.

There are only four people in his life; the world-renowned Doctor Honerva Shirogane who doubles as his mother when she's not making sure he's not ill, his day nurse Coran, who brings him books and makes the funniest dad jokes during blood tests, and Coran's daughter Allura and her childhood best friend-turned-boyfriend Keith, that show up after school bringing gifts of socialisation, new clothes, and occasionally pictures of hot people that Allura saw whilst working her day job.

  
In his bubble, it seems like the human race doesn't exist out of the four humans he talks to and famous people that are littered all over his media.

It's a weird feeling, looking out of the window to see people that you know you can never interact with.

Either way, his birthday was not as bad as he thought it was going to be. Honevra came back bearing gifts of all shapes and sizes, all neatly wrapped in vacuum-tight packaging; new clothes that, shock horror, weren't white, a phone case, a new game for one of his many games consoles. He'd learned a long time ago that money was no issue when you could die from a paper cut, mostly shown at Christmases and birthdays.

  
The day after, he saw Coran as Honerva left for work, who gave him a new omnibus edition of Lord of the Rings along side a leather-sheathed hunting knife that came with a story about how Coran had used it to fight off Tasmanian Devils to reach a secluded tribe and help a woman give birth. Shiro, as usual, didn't believe it for a second, but thanked him for the knife and the book anyway.

"So, spill," Allura urged later, perched on the edge of his perfectly made bed whilst Keith fiddled with the knife, "it's a big birthday this year, have you done anything at all interesting?"

  
Shiro's eyebrow shot up. "Yeah, because my mom is gonna' let me go out and get paralytic just because it's my eighteenth."

  
"You'll need experience for collage, you know," Allura sarcastically said with a smirk, turning back to the leather bound book and flicking through the pages.

"You seriously think Mom's letting me go to collage?"

"Wait, she's not?" Keith shot back, looking between the two with a frown of incredulity.

Snorting, Shiro smiled at Keith's disbelief. "Keith, I haven't been outside since I lost my arm when I was three, you really think she's gonna' let me out now?"

"I know that, but can't you at least get an education like a normal kid?" He replied almost instantly, gripping the knife almost murderously.

"I've got SCID, Keith, I'm not a 'normal kid'," Shiro reminded him, "I lost my arm because my fucking body couldn't clear out an infection in a cut on my forearm." He gave a huff, moving the prosthetic in front of his face. "She's not letting me outside if a cold could kill me, let alone go to collage."

  
"So, we'll all be at collage, and you'll be-"

  
"Here, as usual," he interrupted, feeling rather sorry for Keith's guilt, "don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

  
Sighing, Keith wandered over and heavily sat next to Shiro on the bed. "I'm sorry, man."

  
"You don't have to be sorry, it's not your fault," Shiro assured, looping and arm around his shoulders. In return, Keith rested his head on board shoulders, guilt sneaking through and showing all over his face. Shiro was about to lean back when Allura's arms appeared around both of them, hugging the two from behind.

  
"Oh, my precious boys," she cooed gently, pressing kisses into the tops of their heads, "I'll miss you both, very much."

  
"Miss you too, babe."

  
"Yeah, I'll miss you too."

* * *

 

There was movement outside his window.

It was about eleven at night; Shiro had just put his phone down after saying good night to a group chat of internet strangers, and was about to click out a lamplight when he heard a scuffle outside.

  
The house next door had been on sale for a while, to say the least. Shiro remembered the last guy that lived there, a wannabe singer-songwriter that moved out two years ago after she tried to talk to Shiro through a window and Honerva let loose the dogs of war, to put it lightly.

It had been empty ever since, word of Honerva's protectiveness and 'that anti-social creep next door' being actually listed as a warning on the estate agent's bio, and yet in the driveway was a large truck with what looked to be six odd people filing out of the four doors. It was obviously a family; even in the bad lighting, Shiro could make out two of the six looked a lot older, sporting wrinkles, beards, and a bottle of what looked like rum.

However, the other four were all incredibly different; two of them were child-sized, obviously only young, the next one was pale and short but looked to be a middling teenager judging by the light from her phone screen, and the final one was tall and older, all dark skin and long limbs.

Wandering over to the window, Shiro can't help but stare, watching and laughing quietly as the family merrily go about emptying the truck of luggage and the few pieces of furniture they brought. The two kids looked dead on their feet, running in and presumably to bed the moment the mother opened the front door, whilst the middle one and the tall one helped manoeuvre a beaten armchair in with a caw of laughter and soft insults.

  
Tall boy turned on the ball of his feet, spinning around in the driveway to face the Shirogane house, and Shiro felt himself freeze. Dark eyes locked with his, and a tentative hand shot him a wave.

  
_Don't wave back Shiro, this is gonna' be the Nyma situation all over again and they're gonna' be gone by next Friday-_

  
He raised his left hand, and waved back slightly more confidently. If this was all it was, he could play at being confident, play at knowing how to talk to other human beings.

Tall boy stood there for a little while longer, snapping inaudible sentences at his family before turning back to Shiro in his corner window, and Shiro was fifty percent sure he was gonna stand there all night until the older lady gently led him into the house by his shoulder.

  
Shiro watched him leave, tried to remember the curve of Tall Boy's smile while he still thought Shiro was a 'normal kid'. God, that guy had guts, or hadn't seen the warnings on the website. Or both, he didn't really care.

  
He was kind of cute, and either incredibly ballsy or incredibly stupid, and Shiro laughed despite it all.

  
How cliche this was, where he was a Prince trapped away in a tower and Tall Boy was some plucky, dumbass knight who had gotten through life on charm and good looks alone who was gonna save him.

  
That was, if he was good enough with a sword to defeat Honerva the dragon.

  
He collapsed backwards onto the bed, wrapping himself in the blankets as he chuckled to himself.

  
Heh, swordskill. Shiro had a gay crush. And hoped was good with a sword.

He fell asleep thinking of Tall Boy fighting his mother with a Zweihänder.

* * *

 

The next day was boring.

The slightly heightened excitement of yesterday's 'birthday celebrations', Shiro felt flat. It was only ten in the morning, and he'd already done most of his morning workout, finished Eragon again, and had posted another review on his blog only for it to get three notes whilst his post-workout selfies got hundreds.

  
Shiro understood a lot of things, all the time in the world and a lack of formal education tended to do that to you, but the movement of the internet still tended to perplex him.

  
No, wait- he knew.

He leant back in the office chair, sighing up at the ceiling.  
"Alright, number one," a familiar voice called from the doorway, and Shiro snapped upright, "I've got to take your blood pressure, and maybe you can tell me what's wrong in the process."

That's how he ended up sat at the kitchen table, sat complaining to Coran about boredom for what felt like the millionth time, as the older nurse dutifully nodded at cued times and hummed where it was appropriate.

  
"You do understand this is all for your own good, hmm?" Coran eventually asked him, pinning Shiro to the seat with eye contact. It felt like an interrogation, making Shiro squirm on his bar stool.

  
"Yeah, I get it," he sighed out, hopping off the stool and over to the fridge to get a glass of water that was cold against his warm hands, "if I step outside, I'll probably spontaneously combust or have all my limbs drop off or some shit."

  
He heard Coran sigh, the clatter of medical instruments on solid marble. "Takashi, you know that's not the case."

The metal hand tightened around the glass. A hairline fracture on transparent bone.

He placed the glass down on the counter and breathed deeply. "I know."

Silence held the room. He knew Coran felt bad, could picture the hurt on his face, but he didn't want to witness it for himself. "Sorry."

  
"It's fine my boy, I'm to fault as well."

  
He turned, and saw the sad smile that Coran sent him across the kitchen. "So, am I healthy?"

  
The man's face seemed to light up at the topic change. "Well my boy, you're in tip top shape to me!" He scribbled some values down on a clipboard and tapped the pen to his nose. "The day is free for you to do as you please."

A quick flight of stairs took Shiro to his computer in the sun room. That new fortress game looked good, but he wanted to finish Return of the King by this evening.

  
Eh, he could multitask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please say if y'all like this, I have more in the works if it's alright
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this babes, stay tuned for more!  
> (I have a series of buffer chapters set up, so like even if I have a hard couple of weeks I have something to post, which should help with my notoriously bad chapter commitment)


	2. Bundt Cake

He zoned out for the rest of the day, a blur of medieval fantasy tower defence and the Battle of Pelennor Fields. He heard Honerva come back from work and shout a greeting down the stairs.

If he was honest, he could care more. Honerva coming home usually meant more blood tests and awkward same-y questions about his day, but he eventually padded out of the light-lined sun room and plopped himself next to his mother on a couch.

She offered him a hug that he happily accepted whilst watching what he eventually clocked was that Jurassic Park reboot with Chris Pratt, quietly getting absorbed in the movie whilst she ran hands through his now short hair.

"You cut your hair, Takashi? It's shorter than I remember." Her voice was smooth and dark like the red wine she liked to drink, causing him to curl deeper into the embrace.

  
"Yeah, Coran helped me."

  
She hummed, either in impression or distaste, Shiro couldn't tell. Her hands ghosted the bumpy scar tissue that was visible through the undercut. "It's different, I like what you did with your-" she tangled fingers in the white forelock- "tuft." Smiling, she pressed a kiss to his temple. "I love you, Takashi.”

  
"I love you too, Mom."

The buzzer of the door broke through the comfortable silence, and as Shiro rose to answer it, Honerva lay a spindly hand on his knee. "Stay there, my sweet, I'll answer it."

  
The warmth next to him disappeared, and he heard thin feet nearly floating across the floor. "Who is it?"

  
An unfamiliar voice replied, a low one that he didn't recognise, soon followed by the whoosh of the airlock porch.

Time to go snoop.

He snook over to the front door camera, gently pressing a button to bring up an image of what was happening on the other side of the infamous airlock.

  
An image of an unfamiliar duo greeted him, but he knew immediately who they were. On the left was an incredibly short girl, skin pale in the white light of the door and with dark shadows cast by a mane of blonde hair and thick wire glasses.

  
On her left, Tall Boy.

It could only have been Tall Boy.

From the caramel skin that glowed in the same light that made his companion look sickly, to the soft-looking brown hair that framed his face beautifully.

  
He was too busy looking at Tall Boy's face to notice the crudely iced bundt cake in his hands, and his mother's sharp dismissals of the gift.

  
" _No, tell your mother thank you, but no."_

  
Shiro released a breath he didn't realise he was holding. Why he even got his hopes up, he didn't know.

  
What he liked even less was the look of disappointment on Tall Boy and Short Girl's faces at rejection.  
Then Tall Boy's face lit up. " _Is your son around, per chance?"_

Oh.

Oh, okay.

Even through the static of the microphone, there was no mistaking the fact that Tall Boy was asking after him.

It also wasn't on the script, seeing Short Girl's excitedly shocked face and a playful punch on his arm. _"I knew you had a reason for helping me, you usually hate new neighbourhoods!"_

Again, his hopes got up, and he knew they would just fall. His mother would never happily allow two dirty, possibly ill, bacteria-covered strangers into her house on one huge but simple request.

_"He's not, I'm afraid. Goodnight."_

His stomach dropped in time with the opening of the airlock, and he clicked off the feed before Honerva appeared around the second door.  
"Takashi? Is everything okay?"

He shrugged, not wanting to face her on account of the bitterness that he expected but couldn't avoid. "Yeah, I'm going to bed."

He heard a shocked gasp as he span on the ball of his foot. "Is- is there anything I can get you?"

"Bundt cake."

He didn't hang around to hear her reply.

By the time he reaches his room, his mother's shouting had stopped, at least for the night. The room was mostly dark - he hadn't bothered to turn on the lights when he entered - but was flooded with a grey glow from the streetlight outside.  
Shiro folded himself into the corner of the window seat, and waited.

He had nearly dosed off when he next heard voices, snapping back to lucidity with a glance out the window. Tall Boy and Short Girl were back on their driveway, pushing each other around and laughing about some inside joke that he'd never understand, and in Tall Boy's hands was the bundt cake that Honerva had rejected before.

He watched with interest as their laughter dried up, turning into wide smiles between each other, to flat nothingness once an older man appeared in the doorway.

  
Shiro sat up, properly alert now. Tall Boy and Short Girl didn't seem to like this man, seeing the way their smiles faded at his entrance. He was shouting something, arms sloppily flying about, and Short Girl sullenly walked in whilst Tall Boy was left outraged on the driveway. He shouted something back, causing the man to storm over to him and exchange heated words.

Even in the silence caused by double-paned glass, Shiro could see the tension between the two.  
A plate shattered on the floor, and shards of white ceramic glittered in the streetlights. Tall Boy picked up the cake, now dirtied and gravelly, and walked inside, leaving the man to take a swig from a bottle and follow him in.

Shiro probably shouldn't of watched that

The street was once again quiet, and Shiro felt his tense muscles relax as he exhaled. Somehow, he'd gotten hideously invested in an argument over an unknown topic between two strangers.  
If that was the highlight of his night, his life must have been pathetic.

Shiro was about to settle back down to bed when he heard something hit against his window. It was loud and forceful, like a rock rather than a leaf, and rang like a bell through the silence of the bedroom.

Tap, tap, tap.

There it was again.

He kicked the blankets off for a second time and sleepily meandered over to the window, flicking open the thin curtains with a hint of annoyance.  
He didn't see anything at first, half-lidded eyes searching for anything of interest, until he spotted the open window next door, with a bundt cake precariously balanced on the window ledge.

  
Just as he was about to walk away, a figure appeared in the dark of the room, and a long arm held the cake out towards Shiro's window. It was definitely Tall Boy again, no doubt about it, and Shiro repressed a laugh at his expense, as he seemed to expect Shiro to climb out his window and retrieve it.

  
Heh, he thought, not bloody likely.

He shook his head gently, chucking at Tall Boy's dramatic attempts to bridge the gap between the houses, and shut the curtains just in time to catch a brilliant smile, wide and genuine.

Dork.

* * *

 

The window-meetings soon became part of Shiro's routine.

He'd go through his day as normal, going through the rounds of gaming, reading, and working out, crash next to Honerva when she returned home, and go to bed only to have a silent conversation with Tall Boy about some form of bundt cake.

One day, he was partaking in a mocking funeral of a half-eaten cake, on others he was carelessly stuffing it in his mouth whilst gentility sipping what looked like whiskey out of an ornate tumbler.

Shiro would watch on, in a mixture of pure confusion and hilarity. This young man was unpredictable, and seemed to be doing this just to see Shiro smile; he didn't miss the way Tall Boy would always keenly watch him for a reaction before sending over that same dazzling smile that Shiro had started to become familiar with.

  
That smile, Shiro soon realised, was a drug. A drug that he'd become completely and utterly addicted to.

One night, the bundt cake wasn't there. Instead, Tall Boy was sat over the edge of the window, legs swaying in the cool evening breeze. He seemed to be waiting for Shiro, in the process of checking a worn watch on his wrist when Shiro threw back the curtains as easily as he could with his main arm useless in a compression tube.

The movement caught his eye, and his head snapped up to greet Shiro with that intoxicating smile and a twinkle in his eye. A wrist flick seemed to indicate that Tall Boy wanted Shiro outside, and he responded with a sad shake of his head that he hoped simply conveyed his incredibly difficult position. Tall Boy cocked his head, a confused action that reminded him of a puppy.

  
He was about to reply when Tall Boy held his hand up as if he had an ide, and jumped backwards into the room. As he disappeared into the shadows, Shiro assumed he had left, and was about to close the curtains when he appeared behind the window again with a white-capped pen in hand.

Then he wrote a series of numbers on the window that could only have been a phone number, and Shiro had never run so fast to retrieve his phone off of his bedside table.

 **[23:05] Shiro:**  
_Took you a while_ **.**

 **[23:05] Shiro:**  
_I'm Shiro,_ _you **?**_

 **[23:06] Tall Boy** :  
_Lance, it's nice to meet ya_!

 **[23:06] Lance** :  
_Is that actually your name? You sound like an anime character ://_

If Shiro looked hard enough at the boy across the way from him, the smile had increased, if that was possible.

  
He was also sneaking glances when he thought Shiro wasn't looking.

 **[23:07] Shiro** :  
_Technically, I'm Takashi Shirogane, but believe me when I say no one calls me that except my Mom_.

 **[23:07] Lance** :  
_OMG, you really are an anime character_

 **[23:08] Lance** :  
_Sooooooo are you on house arrest or something_?

 **[23:08] Shiro** :  
_It's a long and complicated story_.

In his window, Lance scowled, punching out a reply as Shiro laughed inwardly at his frustration.

 **[23:08] Lance** :  
_I've got a lot of time on my hands >:(_

Did he really want to start spilling his problems to this bloke who was technically a stranger?  
Lance's face and hard, daring glare told him yes, please do.

 **[23:09] Shiro** :  
_I'm sick_.

 **[23:09] Lance** :  
_Well that wasn't long OR complicated, I'm not sure if I'm relieved you're not dying or disappointed you're not under a witch's curse or smth_

 **[23:09] Shiro** :  
_Believe me, a curse would be preferable_.

He heard footsteps creaking up the hardwood floorboards of the stairs. That would be Honerva, coming up to bed.

  
Shit.

 **[23:10] Shiro** :  
_Mom's coming, I've got to go and pretend I'm asleep_.

 **[23:10] Lance** :  
_Darn, and here I was hoping to look at your pretty face all night ;)_

Okay, now Shiro had not been expecting that. He knew the other boy was extraverted and friendly, but flirty from the offset?

  
He wasn't wrong about the 'having balls' assumption.

  
Hastily pulling the blankets back over himself with his left arm and shutting his eyes incase Honerva tried to enter his room. Once he heard the footsteps go safely into her room and the door slam, he reached over and picked up his phone again.

 **[23:12] Shiro** :  
_Pretty? Are you sure about that?_

 **[23:12] Lance** :  
_Yeahhhhh, maybe pretty was the wrong word_

Shiro was almost offended when another message popped up on screen.

 **[23:12] Lance** :  
_You're definitely more the rugged and handsome type ;)_

 **[23:13] Shiro** :  
_Wish I could say the same about you, but you look like a noodle_.

 **[23:13] Lance** :  
_But am I a pretty noodle? :3_

 **[23:14] Shiro** :  
_Never make that emoji again_.

 **[23:14] Shiro** :  
_And yes, you're a pretty noodle._

 **[23:15] Lance** :  
_:3c nya_

 **[23:15] Shiro** :  
_Go to bed, furry_.

 **[23:15] Lance** :  
_Only if I can talk to you in the morning, weeb :P_

 **[23:15] Shiro:**  
_I'll think about it._

This was a thin line he was treading; if Honerva found out about this, he was as good as dead, but just by accepting the phone number he had gone in way too deep.

He sat up and saw Lance retreating back into his room from the window, giddy smile on his face. If he thought hard enough about his, his smile was pretty giddy as well, but wasn't going to accept that he'd sunk to that level.

His last thoughts were of what he thought Lance's voice sounded like, and then,

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today, sorry guys
> 
> Kudos/comments create Lance's glorious bundt cake


	3. Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello y'all!  
> Two things today:  
> 1) I'm sorry if I've shown Shiro's PTSD wrong. I did some research but I'm not sure if it's enough. Pls say if I've done it wrong.
> 
> 2) This may be going on a lil hiatus for a bit, I wanna knuckle down and finish my fics for Shallurklance ship week. Hopefully I should finish with time to get another chapter out before the end of October, but don't hold your breath.
> 
> (Also I've updated the tags please check them!!!)
> 
> Enjoy!!

Today, Shiro was floating through space.  
It was his favourite place after the beach.

It was different to reality, he knew in the back of his mind. Here, there was no clunky spacesuit to hold him down, instead a slick but impossible suit of amour that made him feel untouchable. The black accents of this suit glinted in the starlight, alien material that was somehow body tight yet more reliable than anything they'd created on Earth. There wasn't even a helmet, yet somehow he was still breathing, just silently existing in a quiet darkness of this patch of galaxy.

At the sides of his eyes, nebulae and star clusters drifted in and out of view, glowing in every colour he could see and illuminating his body.

  
To some people, the feeling of constantly freefalling, with nothing under their feet or in their grip, would be terrifying, but to Shiro, it was exhilarating. He loved the feeling, of having nothing to stand on and yet staying still, of his steady relaxed breaths being the only sound and movement for light years.

Somewhere in the real world, his phone buzzed on the side of a ceramic bath, and Shiro shot one hand out of the water to retrieve it from the side. Naturally, it was Lance; he had expected as much, since it was ten in the morning, and Shiro had indirectly promised another talk.

Suddenly Lance was next to him in his daydream, garbed in matching smooth armour to him, but with his brain cycling through highlight colours. Red didn't suit him, yellow made him look sickly, and green seemed to highlight his face in all the wrong ways.

Blue, however, looked good on him, and Shiro chose a shade that he hoped was close to the eye colour that he rarely saw last night. It made him look regal, powerful and aware of that but not to the point of conceitedness.

This apparition of Lance moved his lips in time with the messages that Shiro was reading, so he chose a voice that was loud and intoned, but not annoying, never annoying.

"So, wait, are you seriously Japanese?" Lance asked as Shiro read, reclining in the zero gravity as if he was on a large chair.

  
"My parents were," Shiro confirmed, "but they moved out here before I was born for Mom's job, so I only know the culture and language because I have too much time on my hands."

  
Lance's face stretched in respect. "I'm the same, like I'm technically Cuban."

Cuban?

  
Imaginary Lance's voice gained an accented lilt.

"How do you mean technically?"

  
Lance shrugged in nonchalance. "That's where Mom says my biological parents were from, but I was raised in Tampa, so..." his voice trailed off, a verbalisation of the shrugging emoji he just sent. "It's like how Pidgey's parents were Italian," he listed, checking his siblings off on his fingers, "and the twins are either from Peru or Chile, I keep forgetting, so Mama has to keep reminding me when I see her."

  
Chuckling, Shiro raised an eyebrow. "You have a lot of siblings."

  
"Yeah, I do, and I love them all!" His smile got even wider, if that was physically possible, and his arms flew out but were slowed down by the lack of gravity. "Andrew doesn't like it too much, but eh, he can go fuck himself for all I care."

  
The smile shrunk.

  
"Andrew?" Shiro guessed this was a touchy subject, but a dark part of him wanted to know more.

  
"Yeah, he's Mom's new asshole boyfriend partner thing," he explained, face twisting into a scowl, "They got together just before we moved here, after Mama broke up with Mom to go work on the other side of the world. He's," he hesitated, matching the break in messages that Shiro was receiving, "a prick."

There was an awkward silence in the space daydream, as Shiro didn't quite know how to reply. He was about the completely change the subject when Lance started up again.

"What about you? I only ever see your Mom, and some ginger bloke in a lab coat."

  
Shiro laughed out loud at that; the 'ginger bloke' was obviously Coran, and he would probably take offence at being called ginger.

  
"That's because it's only me and Mom," he replied, "and that 'ginger bloke' is my nurse Coran who stays when Mom's out to make sure I don't die of a paper cut."

  
He paused over the keyboard, and wrung his hands in thought in the daydream. "Dad died before I could remember him, car crash or some shit."

  
It was a while before Lance replied. "Looks like we both have somewhat shitty lives, huh?" He said with a laugh, looking away from Shiro for a second. "Wait, a day nurse? Christ, you must be really fuckin' sick."

  
"You ever heard of SCID?"

  
A single word denial was all it took to tell Shiro that Lance was completely clueless.

  
"Go look it up."

There was a break whilst he assumed Lance was googling his condition, the daydream pausing like a movie until the other boy replied.

  
He took that time to dip his head into the bath water, soaking his hair with the floral-scented bath water whilst being careful not to drip any more on his phone screen. The water wasn't warm like it was when he entered the bath, instead now being on the warm side of tepid, and the bright navy colour from the bath bomb had faded into a pastel blue.

He held up his right hand, watched the water drip off his fingertips and the jump of displacement as the drops rejoin the bath. In the white lights of the bathroom, the arm looked even more inhuman, less of a prosthetic and more of an alien growth that had chosen the remains of his arm as a host. The silver of the metal and the black of the sensory pads contrasted the white and pink of skin and scar tissue, and he would never get used to the electric jolts that came with each twitch of a finger.

  
He wondered if Lance would like it, take it in his stride and kiss the pads like Shiro fantasised he would, and love it like Shiro hoped he would love the rest of him.

  
Or maybe he would reject it, push it away like he would once he realised that Shiro isn't handsome, or rugged, instead being covered in scars and trapped behind layers of glass by his own mother. This wasn't saying he didn't like his arm, and his scars, and his mother, but he wasn't proud of them, couldn't be.

Suddenly he was not in space, but instead thrown against a hard, concrete floor. Everything around him was twisted metal and smoke, and there was a solid weight against his leg that felt like it might be a person. He was on his side, but everything seemed to be the wrong way round, upside down even.

In the distance, he could make out a wheel, that would have been grey if it weren't for the bloody handprint on it. There was a pain in his right arm, just above the elbow, and he felt trapped, pinned to his sideways seat by whatever was causing his pain.

"Shiro? Is everything okay?"

He blinked once, twice.

  
Bathroom, water, bath, Lance.

That was Coran, calling through the door of the bathroom, and he realised he's been in that bath for a long time. The skin on his flesh fingers had gone wrinkled and prune-like, and his legs had become unresponsive from sitting in one position for too long.

"I'm fine, Coran," he called back, "I'll be out in a second!"

Slowly, he stretched his legs, awaiting the oncoming pins and needles, and exited the bath, letting water collect on the foot towel. Wrapping another towel around his waist, he drained the bath and excited the bathroom.

The phone remained discarded on the side.

* * *

 

"So, finished the old Lord of the Rings, eh?"

  
Shiro nodded and hummed, not looking up from his book as Coran sat down on the other side of the couch.

  
"What is it today then?"

  
"Brisingr." Shiro replied shortly, hoping he didn't sound as rude as he thought he did.

  
Coran paused, obviously running the name through his head. "Nope, can't say as I know that one," he brightly responded, "you kids with all your new books, I remember when The Hobbit came out and it blew everyone's minds!" He threw his hands out in the hair, obviously trying to emulate a 'mind blow', causing Shiro to strain to withhold a laugh.

"It is a good book," Shiro said once his laughs died down, "you might like it, it is a bit like Lord of the Rings."

  
"It might be like it, but is it as good as?"

  
A bookmark was slid into the page, and the book bounced on the couch cushions. "Eh, probably not."

  
Coran fell back against the couch, smugly smirking. "Thought not."  
He coughed, as if to signal a topic change. "Now, I believe this-" he handed Shiro his phone, causing the young man to stiffen in shock- "belongs to you."

The phone continued to buzz in his hand.

"How- where did you-"

  
"You left it by the bath," the older man explained, tapping the side of his nose, "I found it when I was irradiating the bathroom after you'd used it." He pointed at the screen, now lit up to show a multitude of texts that were all seemingly from the same person. "Looks like you've got yourself an admirer Shiro."

 **[12:36] Lance** :  
_Holy crow_

 **[12:36] Lance** :  
_I looked up your problem_

 **[12:36] Lance** :  
_Jesus how are you still alive???_

 **[12:37] Lance:**  
_I should be thankful I guess_

 **[12:37] Lance:**  
_I mean, if your mom didn't do all this crazy 'keep you inside' stuff then we wouldn't have met_

 **[12:37] Lance:**  
_And like, I know it's not the greatest situation ever_

 **[12:37] Lance:**  
_But you're pretty hardcore, you know?_

 **[12:39] Lance:**  
_Aaaannnndddd now you're ignoring me_

 **[13:54] Lance:**  
_Shiro pls don't leave me like this or I'll wither and die and no one likes a dried up noodle_

"A noodle?"

  
Shiro laughed nervously. "I compared him to a noodle in our first conversation?"

  
Coran seemed to accept this, before squinting again. "But how do you know what he looks like?"

  
Oh god, now he thought Shiro had gone outside.

  
"He lives next door," Shiro surrendered with a sigh, "and his window is opposite mine. He wrote his number on the pane."

  
Instead of being mad, Coran seemed to be impressed, nodding gently. "Very resourceful."

  
"Look, Coran," he gave an exasperated smile, aware he was treading on a blade's edge, "please, don't tell my Mom."

  
"You know I have to tell Dr Shirogane everything-"

  
"Coran, please?"

  
He took an agonising while to think about this, tapping his chin in thought like a cartoon character. "Alright," he eventually agreed, and Shiro let out a huge breath of relief, "it'll be our secret."

A swell of gratitude arose in his chest. "You don't know how much this means to me, thank you."

  
"Oh yes I do, I know that look," the nurse replied with a laugh at Shiro's general confusion, "you have the same look on your face that my Allura used to get when talking about Keith."

  
"But I don't think I'm as bad as Keith ever was."

  
The memories of his best friend's incredible pining crossed his mind, and Shiro was glad he hadn't gone that far.

  
"So, this Lance boy, is he nice?"

But how did he describe Lance?  
They'd only been talking for a fortnight, at most, and yet he knew so much about this other person that he was amazed he had never even met him.

"He's self-obsessed," Shiro finally decided on, watching Coran's eyebrows raise up his forehead, "but not in a negative way. He takes care of his skin, talks a lot about face mask routines and how much he envies my need to irradiate everything."

  
To his surprise, all Coran did was start laughing.

  
"What?"

  
"All these books," he said through laughs, "all these adjectives, and the best you can come up with is self-obsessed?"

  
"But, he really is."

  
"Oh, my dear boy." Coran animatedly wiped away a tear and threw a fatherly arm around his shoulders. "You're in love with him, and you don't even know it!"

  
"No, I'm not," Shiro replied, falsely calm, and pushed the arm off him, "and even if I was, it's not like I could ever meet him because of all this-" he gestured to his surroundings- "so there's no point."

  
Coran took one hand in his, the human one, and rolled his thumbs over his knuckles. "You sound just like your mother, you know that?"

  
"Well it's not my fault if it's true," he shot back, slowly becoming more frustrated but not pulling his hand away, "Mom insists no one can ever lay eyes on me, she's probably insist I ditch Lance if she ever found out."

"Then we won't tell her, not yet."

"Thank you, thank you so much Coran."

"But you won't be able to meet him yet."

  
Shiro paled again. "But, you just said-"

  
"I said you could keep talking to him," Coran snapped gently, moving back into a more nurse like mindset, "he can't come here, not until I've spoken to Honerva."

"Not even if he stayed on one side and I stayed on the other?"

"Don't even try, young man."

* * *

 

"Just stand there. And spread your arms!"

"Like this?"

"No, like-" a shuffle of feet, a cringe at the noise- "like this."

"Are you sure this isn't going to kill me?"

"It's not ionising radiation, my boy, you'll be fine, now, wait here, and don't. Move."

* * *

 

 **[15:20] Lance:**  
_Oi, oi Shiro, I've got a surprise for you_

Shiro almost didn't bother looking at his phone. He'd started Inheritance again that morning, and as tedious as it was, he liked finishing the series.  
He was glad he did though.

 **[15:22] Shiro:**  
_What do you mean?_

 **[15:22] Lance:**  
_Gosh, so impatient ;P_

 **[15:22] Lance:**  
_Seriously though, you'll see_

 **[15:23] Lance:**  
_What  was it you told me the other day, Patience yields focus or some shit?_

 **[15:23] Shiro:**  
_Stop using my own quotes against me_

Lance didn't reply to that, and after a while of no texts, Shiro set his phone down on his desk, leaning forward on his elbows to read. He didn't usually read in the sunroom - plastic gets uncomfortable after a while - but Coran had bustled him out of the main lounge a little while ago, and his room was too stuffy, too cloying.

"Ah, Mr Shirogane." Coran's accented voice echoed from the corner of the room, making Shiro jump slightly and nearly drop his book. "I have something to show you."

Shiro gave a sarcastic laugh. "If it's an interesting looking dust bunny again, I'm telling Mom."

"It's definitely not that," Coran hastily replied, waving a hand dismissively, "but you'll definitely want to see it."

"Alright."

  
A clunk echoed around the room as Shiro set his book down.

"Now, if you'll just follow me into the lounge, my boy."

Shiro rolled his eyes, but followed anyway, and was about to walk into the lounge when he was stopped by Coran's hands on his shoulders.

"Now, before you go in, some ground rules." The playfulness had gone from the older man's voice, now sounding deadly serious. "One, you mustn't tell your mother about this," he instructed, counting on his fingers, "two, you must, and I mean this, stay on your side of the room."

  
"My side-?"

  
"Your side." Coran nodded sagely, before grinning widely and pulling at his moustache. "Have fun in there!"

Before he knew what was going on, Shiro was harshly pushed into the room, and heard Coran shut the door behind him. There was nothing noticeably different about it, still with its blank white sofas and flatscreen television and-

"Heh, fancy seeing you here."

Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my dudes!!!
> 
> Come scream at me on tumblr (Svendidntdieforthis.tumblr.com)


	4. A visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I’m sorry for the lack of updates, but here’s another one for ya, and our boys finally meet in person!  
> Also, because I’m focusing on my Shance secret santa fic and school seems to be upping its gears, the next update might be a while. Sorry y’all but please stay with me!
> 
> Enjoy!

Lance was here.

Standing his lounge, hands awkwardly shoved in the pockets of an olive green jacket. His voice nearly sounded like Shiro thought it did. Admittedly, not exactly the same; the American accent was stronger, and many words seemed more intoned, but it was still quintessentially Lance. He seemed uncomfortable, swaying lightly from foot to foot as he gazed at the ceiling. .

But he was here.

"You have a big house, ya' know," he said absentmindedly, spinning on one foot to accentuate his point, "your mom must be loaded."

Shit, he was waiting on a reply.  
His mouth was dry, barren as a desert, and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Could he even talk?

  
"She's a doctor," he eventually willed out, tripping over his words, "earns a lot."

  
Thankfully, Lance didn't seem to be offset by his nervousness, instead whistling low and spinning around once again. "I'm digging the minimalist effect, really neat." His hand trailed over a wooden bookshelf, "your entire house looks like an IKEA showroom."

  
"My cousins are Norwegian," Shiro hastily replied, backing against the wall, "they wanted a hand in the interior design."

  
Lance hummed in what Shiro assumed as impressed approval, before moving around the bookcase to sit on one of the sofas, and Shiro released a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

Why was he so nervous?

He opened his mouth to start some awkward small talk when Lance shot him a shaky smirk. If Shiro was being honest, it seemed that he was just as nervous, if not more.

  
"So, ya' come here often?"

  
"What can I say, I just really like it here," he replied, feeling the tension begin to melt out of his shoulders.

Lance's laugh, he discovered, was like wildfire. Everything it caught on suddenly lit up, ringing out and filling every nook and cranny in the previously sparse room.

Pushing off from the wall gently, Shiro comfortably folded his arms over his chest, feeling himself laugh along.

  
However, Lance seemed loath to sit down, skirting his fingers over the upholstery. "You can sit down, you know?"

  
Wide-eyed, Lance shot him a questioning look. "It's just, the old guy-" he gestured to the doorway- "told me I was to stay on my side of the room 'on pain of being beaten to Woblay', wherever that is."

  
"Doesn't mean you can't sit down, though."

  
Lance shrugged. "Fair."

  
With that, he fell backwards onto the sofa, tipping his head backwards and sighing as his feet hung in the air. "Much better."

  
Once Shiro sat down opposite him, his head clicked back up. "I've just realised," he said slowly, "that we don't know that much about each other."

  
Shiro cocked his head. "But you know about my family, and my-"

  
"Yeah, but the really personal stuff!" Lance was sat up straight now, looking him dead in the eye. "Y'know, like favourite colours and movies and all that jazz."

  
"What's your favourite colour then?" Shiro replied, raising an eyebrow and laughing at the other boy's enthusiasm.

  
Lance thought for a moment. "Blue, probably," he admitted, "Mama always said I looked best in it."

Shiro agreed. Lance would look fantastic in blue.

He was snapped out of this thoughts by Lance pinging a rubber wrist band across the room at him. "Hey, Tic-Tak? What about you?"

  
"Tic-Tak?”

  
Lance shrugged. "Takashi, Tic-Tak, they share a sound, y'know?"

  
"Seriously?" Shiro asked around a laugh, feeling his grin widen.

  
Lance's blush began to crawl up his cheeks. "Shut up, it was a spur of the moment thing." He glared at the floor, pouting, before shaking his head. "Anyway, what about you?"

  
"What about me?"

  
Lance scoffed. "Your favourite colour, dumbass."

  
His favourite colour? It was never something he'd really considered before.

  
Then he looked at Lance. His hair was stunning from this angle, catching the light in all the best ways, and creating a chestnut halo around the top of his head.  
"Brown."

  
"Brown?" Lance squawked, shooting him a playful grin."Any particular shade?"

But what shade of brown was Lance's hair?

Shiro tried to give a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know, like, chestnuts? A warm shade."

  
That seemed good enough for Lance. "Fair enough, at least it's not beige like my doddery old drama teacher."

  
"You used to do drama?"

  
A laugh, warm and bright, answered back by a scoff.  
"Dude, I still do. You're talking to a three-time Clearwater junior theatre champion!"

The conversation snowballed from there, both boys relaxing into the friendly banter. The topic jumped from drama, to Lance's school, to Shiro's online lectures. Shiro was getting used to Lance's voice, learning how he jumped from syllable to syllable, how different sounds sounded gravelly or more like a squeak.

If he was being honest, he could have sat there forever, just listening to Lance ramble on about a boy in his physics class who had apparently dated half the year. He could have listened to Lance talk about anything if it meant he got to listen to his voice.

  
Apparently, they didn't even notice the amber sunsets smoothly coming through the floor length windows, and it took Coran pretty much shouting for them to notice he was there.

  
"Doctor Shirogane will be home soon, young man, so you'd best be going!" His smile seemed wide enough to match theirs.

  
Lance stood up, but then moved over to Shiro, moving his arms out as if he wanted a hug. Could he-?

"Oi, don't push it, I've risked a lot even letting you in!"

Lance's arms fell to his sides, and his smile disappeared momentarily. "Sorry, Mr Smythe."

He walked over to the door, leaving Shiro stunned still on the sofa. "I'll text you later Shiro, okay?"

  
All he could do was reply with a weak confirmation, and the next thing he knew Coran had guided Lance out of the airlock.

He was alone

* * *

 

"So, Takashi?"

"Coran, please-"

"That Lance boy,"

"Coran-"

"You really like him, don't you?"

Shiro fell backwards onto the bed, throwing a pillow over his face in defeat. He could just about hear Allura's shocked giggle, and he could imagine Keith's stunned face.

  
"Shiro, you met someone?" Allura asked dramatically, "my dear, what would your mother say?"

  
"Nothing, hopefully." He sat up and gave them a reproachful glare. "She won't find out."

  
Allura sat forward on her seat, eyes wide and excited. "Go on then, tell me everything, please!"

  
Scratching his head, Shiro laughed nervously, not helped by Coran's grinning from his spot in the doorway. "Well, see, he lives next door, and he kind of wrote his number on the window?"

  
"He sounds desperate," Keith shot back, piping up for the first time after taking in the information, "he better not be in this for a quick fuck."

  
"He's not, I promise," Shiro quickly assured, "he knows about my SCID, anyway."

  
"You told him?" Keith looked shocked, attempting to sit up despite the squish of the bean bag he was reclined in.

  
"Look, it was that or let him continue to this that I was a juvenile murderer who was under house arrest."

  
Allura sighed out a laugh, holding her head in her hands before looking back up. "Is he, at least, attractive?"

  
"Well, I-"

  
"You said your favourite colour was his hair, you must have thought he was somewhat attractive," Coran stated, twisting his moustache before seeing Shiro's embarrassed expression, "and, that's my cue to leave, so I'll see you kids later!"

The three sat in silence for a while, Allura and Keith looking quietly amazed at what Coran had just admitted.

  
"Fucking hell, Shiro," Keith eventually said, "you're so gone."

  
"No, I'm not-" Shiro tried to argue back, but Keith cut him off.

  
"You said your favourite colour was brown, Shiro," he pointed out, "no one's favourite colour is brown."

Dear lord.

He was so gone.

* * *

 

"-And oh my god, you should have seen him when he sat down, you could see his muscles through his shirt-"

  
"Lance, I love you, but if you wax poetic about this dude's muscles one more time, I'm turning friendly fire off."

  
Lance stuck his tongue out at Hunk and turned back to the game, controller slipping in his hands. He loved gaming nights with Hunk and Pidge, but they all had such little respect for his newly blooming love life.

  
"I'm with Hunk on this one," Pidge replied on his other side, pausing for a second to take out an enemy player, "he's all you've talked about ever since you came back, like, we get it, he's hot, chill."

  
Clicking his tongue, Lance sank back into the foam chair. "Yeah? You guys are all just jealous because he's mine and not yours."

  
"Yeah Lance," Hunk replied with a laugh, "we barely know this guy exists."

  
"Oh, trust me," Lance shot back, "Shiro definitely exists."

  
"He sounds like an anime character."

  
Lance choked back a laugh. "That's exactly what I said!" He leaned onto Hunk's arm, obscuring half his face with his friend's bicep. "Turns out that he's completely Japanese, and he has cool hair and scars and, get this, a robot arm!"

That, apparently, was enough for Pidge to momentarily look up from the game. "He has a working robotic prosthetic? Seriously? Like, actually working? No one has gotten robotics to connect to the human nervous system completely, that's-"

  
"Yep," Lance bragged, popping the P, "haven't asked him how he got it yet, but one step at a time, right?"

  
Hunk chuckled over Pidge's awed expression. "I'm amazed Lance, you're actually being pretty mature about this."

  
"Well duh, he isn't just a pretty face!" He sat up, mockingly scandalised. "He's kind, crazy intelligent, really funny, and can speak, like, seventeen languages."

  
"So?"

  
"He's so dreamy."  
Flopping backwards, Lance sighed dramatically and threw his controller in the air.

  
"Lance, damnit, focus," Pidge shouted over his shoulder, "we need to win this!"

A buzz cut through the air.

 **[22:23] Shiro:**  
_I'm sorry about Coran today, he's just informed me about everything he threatened you with_

"Lance, if that's who I think it is, I'm taking your phone off of you."

"Gimme' a second!"

 **[22:23] Lance:**  
_He only threatened me with minor murder, I've heard worse :P_

 **[22:24] Shiro:**  
_Well, I'm sorry anyway_

 **[22:24] Shiro:**  
_Thank you for today, Lance, it was nice to finally meet you properly :)_

"Guys, guys, look at this!"  
Without warning, Lance paused the game and shoved his phone between the two, causing Pidge to grumble about missing a shot, and Hunk to lean over in curiosity.

  
"Dude, that's sappy," Hunk noted, shooting his friend a grin, "you've got yourself a keeper."

  
Lance pulled the phone to his chest. "He was happy to see me."

 **[22:25] Lance:**  
_And I was happy to meet you!!! You're really cool in person_

 **[22:26] Lance:**  
_Not that you weren't cool already_

 **[22:26] Lance:**  
_Your voice is nice_

"Lance," Pidge asked flatly, "why the fuck would you write that."

  
"I have no idea."

  
"'Your voice is nice'? Really?" She replied, "could you sound any more clingy?"

  
"But it's true," he added, "his voice was nice. Gravelly, and gentle, but nice."

  
To his left, Hunk rolled his eyes with a smile. "Put it down, Lance, before you embarrass yourself completely."

  
"Fine." The phone was reluctantly set aside. "But if he replies, I'm asking for help."

  
"That's fair."

  
A controller connected with Lance's stomach. "Now, game on, asshole."

* * *

 

 **[23:05] Shiro:**  
_I'm honoured you like it so much_

 **[23:05] Lance:**  
_Dude it's great :D_

 **[23:06] Shiro:**  
_Well, if it comes to anything, your voice suits you_

 **[23:06] Lance:**  
_How do you mean?_

 **[23:06] Shiro:**  
_Cute_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmu at my tumblr (Svendidntdieforthis.tumblr.com) to chat about anything voltron!
> 
> Kudos/comments make Coran more likely to let lance in in the future
> 
> EDIT 4/11/17: NOW FEATURING SOME GORGEOUS ART by Rigb0ner on tumblr! Thank you so much!!! pls go and please some love over there, they deserve it


	5. Formation of a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> First of all, holy CRAP I’ve had some wonderful feedback on this. If you ever want proof of what good feedback can do to a writer, I churned out 2.5K tonight bc I wanted another chapter out, and I literally never write that much in a day. I really wanna thank Nogurt-P and Rigb0ner on tumblr for their life-changing feed back, so this one is for you, thank you so much.
> 
> Secondly, who’s ready for A N G S T :DDD  
> Warnings for panic attacks, flash backs, car crashes, death, blood, and general PTSD in this chapter. Please be careful guys, this source material is darker than I thought it was when I started writing it. However, it ends on a good note, so feel free to skip past the first section if you don’t wanna read the darker stuff.  
> Please shout if I haven’t written it correctly, I have done research, but there’s only so much research can do.
> 
> Enjoy!

Shiro set his book aside, stretching his limbs out and listening to the crack in his joints after what felt like hours sat in one position. He sighed, listening to the sound echo around the silent room.

  
He was completely alone, sat in the silence that he should have been used to after living in it for most of his life. But today, he felt unnerved, uncertain, like something unpleasant was twisting inside of him, causing his heart to thump erratically.

He knew what this was.

He didn't like it.

Later, he took a shower on Coran's advice, and an odd feeling decided to settle in his bones. It was something he should have been used to, after spending most of his life alone, and set here it was, twisting in his gut like a knife.

He felt lonely.

He wanted Lance back. He wanted to step outside the cubicle, wrap himself in a crisp white towel and find Lance lounging on his bed like Keith used to do, marvelling at the size of the room and kicking off his shoes as if he had lived there his entire life.

He wanted to hear him, his laugh tinkling and filling the cold gaps in the room, his voice chasing and asking questions Shiro had never been asked before. He wanted the warmth that came from sharing a room with someone you cared about, someone who you wanted to spend time with. The lack of physical contact didn't matter, since Lance's mere presence felt like warmth. Warmth and home.  
But now he was alone, he felt cold, and no matter how hot he turned the water, he couldn't get warm again.

  
Not in the same way. Not the way that he wanted.

It wasn't until he felt his knees touched the wet floor of the cubicle that he even noticed he had sunk to the ground, arms firmly wrapped around his upper body. His vision was blurring in and out, tunnelling to irrelevant focus points in front of him.

Everything around him was grey and wrecked, and the weight against his body had a face this time, with black hair that glinted with a thick liquid.

Blood.

He felt small, and incredibly afraid, the fear rooting itself in the constriction of his chest and the pounding of his heart in his ears. He tried to move, but his legs felt like lead, and his arms were trapped, one under his body and the other held in place by something cold. It might have been Ryou again, playing around with his metal figurines that he liked to taunt Shiro with, if it wasn't for the fact that Ryou was dead against him.

  
In front of him, the gap between the two front seat chairs revealed a bloody hand, limp and dripping.

The fear in his chest doubled, catching his breath in the back of his throat and cutting off all oxygen. There was something sliding down his face, and he couldn't tell if they were tears or blood or shower water that his rational brain told him was there but he couldn't see.

"Shiro? Takashi, are you with me?"

That was a feminine voice, soft but cutting, and sounded murky in his ears. He nodded jerkily, the image before his eyes beginning to fizzle out.

"Can you focus on your breathing for me, do the exercises we worked on, remember those?"

He did, in fact, remember the exercises, and the image greyed and vanished before his eyes. He was sat with his back ramrod straight to the wall of the cubicle, limbs shaking gently in the water that now just felt uncomfortable.

By the partition was Honvera, still in her doctor's scrubs, looking incredibly worried, with one hand nearing his on the wet floor of the shower.

  
He swallowed, and exhaled, breath still shaking as it rattled out of his lungs.  
A hand wrapped around his left, squeezing gently. "You're doing so well, good boy, keep breathing."

He breathed.

* * *

 

"Ah, Shiro, just the person I was looking for!"

  
Shiro chuckled and looked up from the mostly blank word document on his computer. "There's only me here, Coran, so if you were looking for someone else, I'm sorry."

  
That earned him a gentle clip over the back of the head, laughing at Coran's fake, highly exaggerated anger. "I need to talk to you about tomorrow night."

Tomorrow night? That was-

  
"July the fourth, I know," Shiro confirmed with a smile, "so I'll be here with Mom, and watch some fireworks on the TV, same as every year."

  
Coran's face twisted, and to Shiro, he looked somewhat guilty. "About that..." he trailed off, rubbing his hand over his hair awkwardly. "Honerva isn't going to be here tomorrow night, she's just told me that she's being forced to attend a dinner with her colleges."

  
Well that was interesting. His Mother usually made an effort to keep him company for such things as national holidays, but evidently not this year.  
"So, will you, Allura, and Keith be staying?”

  
"Unfortunately not," the older man replied, "Allura and Keith are going to a party hosted by a school friend, so I've got to stay at home for them."

After eighteen years of not being able to do normal teenage things, he thought he would be used to his friends doing things without him, but he couldn't help the wave of loneliness that somehow appeared. Of course Keith and Allura have friends other than him, that's how it works, but he couldn't help but feel hideously left out.

A hand appeared on his shoulder, connected to Coran, smiling sadly. "I'm sorry, lad, if I could change it, I would, you know that."

  
"It's not your fault." Shiro forced a smile. "Thank you for trying, though."

  
"Will you be okay on your own?"

  
"I'll be fine, don't worry."

  
Wait, he was going to be on his own? If this meal was anything like the usual ones Honerva went to, she'd be gone until incredibly early in the morning, often staying at the house of whoever was hosting the meal. But if Coran wasn't here, then, technically, there was nothing stopping him.

"I know that look, young man," Coran suddenly said with a suspicious laugh, "if you're planning something, it best not be dangerous, or I'll never hear the end of it."

  
"Yeah, I was planning a night at a rock climbing centre, nothing big."  
Another joking clip over the head, and he laughed. "Sorry Coran, I'll be safe."

"Good lad."

* * *

 

_**[19:09] Lance:**  
What's your favourite movie?_

_**[19:10] Shiro:**  
What?_

_**[19:10] Lance:**  
Your favourite movie, duh_

_**[19:10] Lance:**  
What is it?_

_**[19:10] Shiro:**  
I don't really think I have one_

_**[19:11] Lance:**  
OH COME ON, everyone has a favourite movie?????_

_**[19:11] Shiro:**  
Okay, chill, I'll think of one_

_**[19:11] Lance:**  
You better_

_**[19:12] Lance:**  
Also, sign up to this_

Two links appeared on his screen, one for some kind of screen sharing website, and another for a video-chat service. Did Lance want a long-distance movie night or something?

  
Either way, Shiro quickly tapped in his email and standard password, quickly swapping to accept the activation email and then sending the usernames over to Lance.

_**[19:16] Shiro:**  
Big Hero 6?_

_**[19:17] Lance:**  
Of course you're a disney nerd_

_**[19:17] Shiro:**  
Shut up it's a good film_

_**[19:17] Lance:**  
Hey big guy, I never said it wasn't_

A friend request popped up on both screens, and he quickly accepted both of them.  
God, he was nervous for something as simple as a phone call.

_**[19:18] Lance:**  
You up for a chat?_

The window suddenly filled with blue, and Shiro clicked the green button before the ringtone could start. Lance's face then replaced the blue, grinning at his camera, and Shiro felt himself smile right back. The room Lance was in was dark, and his face was only illuminated by the dim light from his computer, making his eyes glint even more that Shiro thought was humanly possible. The feed was grainy and pixelated, but didn't seem to be too bad.

_"Fancy seeing you around here, big guy."_

  
Shiro chuckled. "Well, you invited me."

  
_"I know,"_ he said cheekily, sticking his tongue out with a grin, _"I was thinking movie and dinner, but it might be a bit late for a meal now."_

  
"I'll settle for just a film," Shiro responded smoothly, "you owe me a meal, though."

  
_"That's fair."_ Lance shrugged, and sat up to fiddle with what Shiro assumed was the DVD player. _"Check that other website I sent you."_

  
On the site was the opening titles of Big Hero 6, already playing.

  
"Uh, Lance," he questioned, grin slowly growing on his face, "there's no sound."

  
_"Crap!"_ Lance cringed, quickly tapping a button to raise the volume to something that they could deal with. _"Better?"_

  
"I can actually hear it now," Shiro snarked, snuggling backwards into the makeshift wall of pillows and blankets.

  
_"That's good,"_ Lance replied, _"wish I could be there with you."_

He winked, earning a glare from Shiro  
"Yeah, and get ripped a second asshole by my Mom."

  
_"A second asshole, huh? Sounds kinky-"_

  
"Lance."

  
Lance shot him a smirk, reclining to get a better view of the screen. _"I wouldn't have guessed you were into disney."_

  
"I wouldn't have guessed you were someone who talked through movies," Shiro shot back, "now hush, Tadashi is about to do the cool motorcycle thing."

  
_"Ooooh, someone has a crush."_

  
"Tadashi would make a wonderful boyfriend and you know it."

  
_"Thats fair."_ He took a loud sip of a drink next to him. _"He's hot. Literally."_

  
"Lance, it's time to stop."

  
They settled into a comfortable silence, they both getting into the movie. Shiro was loath to admit he cried a little at Tadashi's death, blaming it on the music whilst swearing he was still alive somehow. They soon devolved into conspiracy theories, Lance arguing that Abigail was somehow suspended in a link between dimensions whilst Shiro sat and laughed.

"Hey, Lance?" He asked, once the laughter had died down, "you doing anything for Fourth of July?"

  
_"I don't think so,"_ the other boy replied, after thinking for a second, _"why?"_

  
"Well, I'm home alone tomorrow night."

  
_"You're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting."_

  
"Wanna come over and sit on opposite sides of the room for four hours?"

  
_"Sounds fantastic."_

* * *

 

"Hunk?"

A crackle of phone static, before Hunk wearily replied. "What Lance? It's nearly midnight?"

"I can't come to your party tomorrow night, sorry dude."

  
"But you always come to the Garrett July Fourth party?"

  
"That's what I told Andrew." A pause. "But he wants me to watch the twins whilst he goes out and gets pissed, and Mom and Pidge are over in Anaheim."

  
"Crow dude, I'll save you some cake."

  
"Thanks bro, love you."

  
"Whatever Lance, be safe. Don't kill them with your cooking."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y’all so much!
> 
> Kudos and Comments are awesome, I love y’all so much
> 
> (Also if u notice the subtle reference to one of my old fics, you’re the real MPV)


	6. 4th of July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening y’all!!!
> 
> I’m sorry for the huge break between chapters; I’ve been splitting my time between this and my secret Santa fic (and the pallura one but that’s out now so it’s chill)  
> Also I cannot write kisses to save my life, but surely y’all know that by now, right?  
> I mean, you’re still here, so you can’t mind my crappily written kisses that much.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

The next day passed incredibly slowly.

To Shiro, it melted together into a day consisting of blood tests, reading, and repetitive conversations with Honerva. She didn't seem to want to leave him tonight, apologising time and time again; Shiro practically had to grovel so that she wouldn't call the meal off.

"Takashi, I'm so sorry," she said for what felt like the hundredth time. They were sat at the end of the breakfast bar, blood pressure monitor inflated around Shiro's arm. The air conditioning must have been stronger that day, as he felt cold against the solid steel of the stool. In front of him, Honvera was studying the output from the machine, lips pursed in a regretful line. "I can call it off, I don't need to go."

  
"Mom, you can't not go," Shiro replied with a sigh, nearly pushing the armband off once he heard the beep, "I'll be fine, I promise."

  
She shot him a sceptical glare. "You'll call me if you feel ill?"

  
"Of course-"

  
"And you won't do anything reckless?"

  
"Would I?"

  
She sat back and breathed slowly, brushing off her legs as she stood. "Of course not, I'm sorry."

The blood pressure monitor went back in the box with a click, and Honerva slid it back into a side cupboard. "Well, you're checking out okay," she finally confirmed with a smile, "I'm going to go and change, I'll see you in a bit."

As she left, she pressed a light kiss against the crown of his head, before elegantly walking out the room.

  
In his pocket, his phone buzzed.

 **[17:35] Lance:**  
_So, what time do you want me over? I don't think your mom has left yet :(_

 **[17:35] Shiro:**  
_I'll text you. Hopefully she should be leaving soon_

 **[17:36] Lance:**  
_I'll keep an eye out ;)_

God, he hoped she would leave sooner.

* * *

 

It was half past eight when Honerva eventually left, and not without another bout of forceful assurances. By the time Shiro heard the airlock slide shut, he already felt tired, and it was another ten minutes before he finally heard the car accelerate down the road .

At last, he was alone.

For a second, he sat, just to make sure his mother wasn't going to come back, but only silence greeted him.

 **[20:45] Shiro:**  
_It's safe, come on down_

 **[20:47] Lance:**  
_See you in a second, beefy boy_

'Beefy boy'? It must have gotten hotter in here, since his cheeks felt like they were burning and his heart was pounding faster in his chest. Admittedly, part of it was apprehension. Tonight, he was directly going against everything his mother spend his entire life guarding him against; he was inviting an unrecognised stranger into the house, he was spending the night with said stranger, and he had flirted with said stranger.  
It was understandable he was scared.

He hardly had time to feel scared though, as the doorbell rang several seconds later.

  
"Hey, big guy, you gonna' let me in?" A voice called from the airlock, accompanied by a quick, rhythmic tapping on the thick glass.

Shiro had never run to the door so quickly. His finger nearly missed the button from the hypertension headache, but a cheer and the rush of water from the front sink made a large grin erupt on his face.

  
"Yo, Shiro," Lance quickly said a moment later, sticking his head out from the second door, "how do I use your irradiate-inator?"

"I thought Coran went over it with you," Shiro said with a laugh, moving through the door and helping Lance into the irradiator, "just stay still."

In the rush of lasers and air, Lance looked like a bit of an idiot. He had his arms held out in an exaggerated fashion, and his head was raised at an interesting angle. His hair was spiked from the rush of air, sticking up in uneven tufts or flattening against his face, and his skin was practically glowing in the harsh light rather than becoming washed out like Shiro did. From slightly below him, Shiro could see all the double chins that Lance was intentionally pulling, and could also see right up his nose.

  
He'd never seen anyone so beautiful.

"Oi, dumbass, I think I'm finished," Lance called, quirking his lips into a smile as Shiro helped him out of the pod-shaped machine, "you ready to go sit on opposite sides of a room for hours on end?"

  
Shiro shot him a smile. "I can't think of anything I'd rather do."

* * *

 

Once in the lounge area, Lance had made himself completely at home; his legs were thrown over the plush sofa as he relaxed into the cushions, shooting Shiro questions the entire time.

  
"So," Lance drawled once he had settled, "what do you do for fun around here?"

  
Shiro flushed. "I spend a lot of time on the internet," he admitted, "or watching films, or TV." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Or video games, I guess-"

  
"So what, no wild raves? No slumber parties?"

  
"Not really." He laughed quietly at Lance's shocked face. "Not allowed non-authorised people in, remember?"

  
Lance shrugged. "Well, I'm in here."

  
"Yeah, but you're not supposed to be."

  
A wink was shot his way as Lance grinned. "I won't tell if you won't."  
There was an awkward moment of silence, Shiro coughing into his hand slightly. He had no idea how to keep up a conversation; both of his known friends usually led the conversation, his mother was too pushy to let a talk die, and Coran and him never really talked outside of the nurse's one sided stories.

"So who is on this 'authorised list' then?" Lance asked, hands miming quotation marks in the air.

  
"Well," Shiro started, "there's Mom, and Coran-“

  
"Is that the nurse guy that was here last time?" Lance interrupted.

  
"That's the one."

  
Lance grinned. "He's awesome." He stalled as he realised he had butted in. "Anyone else?"

  
"Only his daughter and his daughter's boyfriend," Shiro admitted with a smile, thinking of Keith and Allura, "I've known them both for what feels like forever."

  
Lance laughed, cheeks splitting in a happy smile. "You have friends, I'm so proud."

  
Shiro spluttered at Lance's small quip. "Excuse you," He said, scandalised, "Keith and Allura are very good friends, thank you very much-"

  
"Wait, Keith?" Lance practically shouted as he sat up, "a bit shorter than me, greasy, black mullet, dresses like he fell backwards into a bargain bin in the dark?"

  
"His clothing choices aren't that terrible-"

  
"He wears a three-quarter jacket that doesn't do up properly, and fanny packs," lance shot back, deadpan, "his fashion sense is downright awful."

  
Shiro had to laugh at that, letting out a deep rumble at Lance's admission and throwing back his head. He didn't notice he was laughing quite so hard until he saw Lance staring, own laughs gently shaking his chest.

  
"I'm sorry," Shiro apologised, "I just imagined Keith's reaction if I ever told him that."

  
Lance looked up at him, eyes twinkling. "Don't apologise, I-" He stopped and took a breath, as if he didn't quite know what to say- "I've never heard you laugh like that before."

The room suddenly became extremely warm.

"It's not that bad of a laugh, is it?"

  
"Nah." Lance's smile became warm and tender. "I love it, it suits you."

It was definitely hot in that room now.

After that, the conversation lapsed into a gentle, casual talk, topic jumping from favourite shows to pets to Lance's siblings. Lance, it turned out, could talk forever, and Shiro never once tired of hearing his voice. He asked Lance about the ocean, about what the sea was like outside of stock photos and Clipart, and Lance obliged.

He talked of rolling waves, voice ebbing and flowing like the tide. He talked of surfing, arms recreating the curve of the water as he recounted the experience of crashing out. He spoke of the fish that farted around his feet, of seaweed that lazily caught itself around his ankles.

When Shiro asked about the mountains, Lance talked of snow brighter than the glowing pixels of a computer screen, of craggy rocks that stood out against clear skies, of chill temperatures that burrowed deep into your bones.

Shiro could have listened to him talk all day. He had memorised the lilt of his voice, the tone of excitement and deep explanation, the way his eyes shone even more that usual.

God, he had fallen, and he didn't ever want to stop.

"-iro? Takashi? You okay there?"

  
Shiro nodded gently. "Zoned out for a second, I'm sorry."

Lance smirked, and got to his feet. Hands were jammed in pockets as he meandered over to the wall of windows, looking out on the expanse of starry sky. "It's a great night for fireworks," he mused, looking up into the night, "you can see them from here, right?"

  
"Of course," Shiro replied with a smirk, "they're usually really good, and you don't get the loud noises."

  
"You don't like the bangs?"

  
Shiro shook his head. "Don't like the shock."

  
Lance nodded in understanding. "Dee gets like that as well, they always make her cry, so her brother has to comfort her." He sighed in recollection of the memory. "They're so adorable."

  
"I would like to meet your family one day," Shiro admitted, hoping his voice carried over the room.

  
"They'd love to meet you too."

It was the longing in his voice that brought Shiro to his feet, and before he knew what he was doing he was making his way across the room towards Lance.

  
"Hey, Shiro?" Lance asked cautiously when he saw him walking over, "what are ya' doing?"

  
"Standing by you." Shiro replied simply, moving to stand next to him.

  
"Shiro-“

  
"I'm not gonna' die, Lance," Shiro said with a laugh, "just watch."

  
"If you say so." Lance chuckled and turned back to the window. "Nice night."

  
"Perfect for the fireworks."

There was a moment of silence before Lance sighed and dropped his head. "Your Mom is gonna' want me dead after this."

  
Shiro stalled, confused. "I'm sorry, what?-"

He barely had time to finish his sentence before Lance turned towards him. His hands were out of his pockets now, fiddling in front of him, and the darkness that shadowed his face somehow made the blue of his eyes shine even brighter.

The next thing he knew, Lance's lips were on his, pressing soft and gentle. His lips weren't chapped like Shiro's, but instead soft and warm; he remembered Lance had mentioned a night-time skincare routine, and he silently thanked every god for it.

Once he got over the shock, he realised that, yes, this was happening, and yes, he wanted this, had yearned for it, and he moved his head to get a better angle. Two arms secured around his neck, gently pulling him down, and Shiro was suddenly aware of Lance's coconut body wash and the musky scent of sweat.

  
A tongue ran across his lower lip, and Shiro opened his mouth to allow Lance to lick into his mouth. Lance tasted of chocolate, sweet and milky, and Shiro could feel himself become addicted to this. He snaked one hand up Lance's shirt, feeling Lance jolt against him as cold metal connected with the warm skin of Lance's stomach. Their noses bumped gently, causing them both to laugh.

  
"I told you your mom was gonna' hate me," Lance said breathlessly as he pulled away, giggling at Shiro's quiet whine at the sudden lack of contact.

  
"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," he whispered against his lips, smiling conspiratorially as he felt the huff of Lance's breath, "and she'll have to go through me first."

His flesh hand stroked Lance's side, enjoying the shiver he felt when he brushed over a ticklish spot.

  
"Blimey," Lance joked, one hand moving around to pull on his collar, "I didn't realise my knight in shining armour was the princess in the castle all along."

Shiro laughed at that, and surged forwards for another kiss that Lance happily reciprocated, mouths slipping together like puzzle pieces.

Behind them, the fireworks burst, unnoticed to their audience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aksjsnsna I loved writing this chapter so much  
> Thank u for reading!!!  
> Kudos/Comments create more fireworks for their party.


	7. An argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!!!
> 
> Sorry for the late update. I kind of burnt myself out writing the gift fic, but I’m back now!  
> Big old warnings for physical abuse here (lance gets hit) and implied alcoholism. If this isn’t for you, skip from where Shiro sees the argument for the first time to when he’s talking to Lance. There’s also a brief mention of slight suicidal thoughts, if you count Shiro being prepared for death as such. Again, the source material was darker than I thought it was. Stay safe my dudes!
> 
> Enjoy!

Days later, Shiro could still feel the ghost of Lance's lips on his. When he ran his fingers over them, he could almost imagine the run of Lance's tongue and the memory of his breath on his skin. Sure, it had taken a while to assure Lance that a singular kiss wasn't going to kill him, but it didn't detract anything from the actual experience and the thrill of actually kissing this guy he's fantasised after for so long.

But with it came this pain that he couldn't have predicted. Every suspicious glance his mother sent him set him on edge, even though he knew she had no reason to suspect him. Lance had, thankfully, left well before Honerva had returned home, and he never let his phone out of his sight these days incase of a stray text that could out the two of them.

A buzz shook him out of his daydream the next morning.

 **[10:01] Lance:**  
_Thank you so much for last night, like, seriously it was the best night of my life so far :D_

 **[10:03] Shiro: (Draft)**  
_It was mine as well, and I_

 **[10:04] Shiro: (Draft)**  
_Next time moms out, would you be up fo_

 **[10:04] Shiro; (Draft)**  
_I loved it too, but maybe you'd like to be my boyf_

 **[10:05] Shiro: (Draft)**  
_I love yo_

 **[10:06] Shiro:**  
_I'm glad you enjoyed it, maybe you'd be up for coming around again some time?_

 **[10:06] Lance:**  
_You know it <3_

He set his phone down on the desk again, and buried his face in his hands. He was so far gone, but if anyone found out, he'd be as good as dead. He needed some form of independence, some way to function without asking his mother for things constantly. If he was going to pull this off, he needed some autonomy.

Shiro pulled open an incognito tab, and started searching.

Turns out credit cards were way too easy to get.

It didn't take much to fake being his mother, and the email confirming a card coming his way arrived in seconds. Okay, maybe he had stolen his mother's bank details, and maybe he'd spent way too long trying to perfect her signature so the card wouldn't look forged, but the rush of acting under Honerva's nose again was more addicting than any drug he'd read about.

  
With a sigh, he fell back against the back of the chair, lazily clicking off the window and running a cold metal hand over his face. He told himself nothing would come of it, but the glass airlock loomed in his peripheral vision. Compared to stuff he'd asked Honerva for in the past, airplane tickets weren't that expensive.

If he ran whilst she was out, Coran wouldn't - couldn't - stop him. He'd take Lance, drive whenever the petrol gauge would allow them and stay there as long as they could.

Finally, he'd go to the sea, walk through the surf hand in hand, kiss to the rush of wave and the setting of the sun. He'd do all the childish things he never could; make sandcastles that would inevitably collapse, fight the tide with a splashing contest, piss off the crabs in rock pools and coastal caves.

And yeah, he'd die.

  
But he'd spend his last day with the new love of his life, at the place he's always dreamed of going. He'd die happy.

If that was the price of freedom, he was happy with that.

"Takashi, sweetheart," a voice called from the airlock, "I'm home!"

As he stood to greet his mother, the dopey smile didn't leave for a second.

* * *

 

The next week passed in a blur, mostly mixing into reading, endlessly refreshing various social media sites, and long text conversations with Lance that bled into late night whispered phone calls and grainy video chats. Admittedly, it wasn't much different from any other week Shiro had experienced, but the fresh air that was just so Lance was a welcome change from the monotony.

Then the credit card came, and it was as if a whole new world had been opened up to him.

The first thing he bought was a T-shirt, all soft pastel cotton and a vinyl embossed reference to some anime he'd watched recently. In a strange way, something as simple as buying a t-shirt was exhilarating to him, and the excitement that came from Coran throwing the grey, irradiated packet his way with a smile two days later was almost overwhelming.

 **[13:57] Shiro:**  
_How do I look?_

 **[13:58] Shiro:**  
_(Picture message sent)_

 **[13:59] Lance:**  
_Oh man_

 **[13:59] Lance:**  
_Jesus fuckin Christ_

 **[13:59] Lance:**  
_Actually wait forget Jesus I have a new religion_

 **[14:00] Shiro:**  
_That good, eh?_

 **[14:00] Lance:**  
_Please crush me with your biceps_

 **[14:01] Lance:**  
_I didn't think shirts that tight should be legal_

 **[14:02] Shiro:**  
_Is it too tight? I can send it back and get the next size up if you want_

 **[14:02] Lance:**  
_NO_

 **[14:02] Lance:**  
_Just because the world isn't ready for your glorious muscle doesn't mean I should be deprived of it_

 **[14:03] Shiro:**  
_Okay, I'll keep it_

 **[14:03] Shiro:**  
_Only for you, though_

"A new shirt, Takashi?" Honerva asked that night, cocking an eyebrow and smiling as she handed him a pizza slice over the coffee table.

  
Shiro shrugged, accepting the pizza. "I hope you don't mind, it was somewhat of an impulse buy."

  
"You know I don't mind you buying whatever you want," she confirmed gently, "has Coran irradiated it?"

  
He scoffed. "Of course."

  
She sat back on the sofa, turning back to the large flatscreen television. "It has short sleeves, Takashi, I'm proud."

  
Wait, sleeves?

  
The awareness of his scarring suddenly kicked in, and his prosthetic felt heavy where it was attached to his arm.

  
"Don't change, you look lovely." He turned to see Honerva place a hand on his upper arm, a small amount of pride visible in her dark eyes.

He fell back into the plush cushions, and smiled.

* * *

 

 **[16:46] Shiro:**  
_Lance, I'm bored_

 **[16:46] Shiro:**  
_Help me_

With a sigh, Shiro threw the phone down on his bed, watching the satisfying bounce as the phone collided with the mattress. Lance hadn't been replying to his messages all day, Coran was busy with some separate consultation work, and none of his social medias were producing anything of particular interest.

  
He thought boredom would have become a familiar, controllable feeling by now, and yet, here he is.

In the white noise of his bedroom, he could hear a commotion outside. Probably just another arguing couple on the pavement, he thought, but he pushed himself off the bed anyway and meandered over to the window.

But it wasn't another faceless, arguing couple.

In the drive of the next-door house, Lance was arguing animatedly with an older man. He was getting incredibly worked up, often throwing his arms wide with a crescendo in his voice, or tossing his head with what Shiro could only assume was a huff or an eye roll. The man he was arguing with was standing his ground stubbornly, despite the thick glass muffling the woods and preventing Shiro from fully hearing what was being said.

If it was anyone else, Shiro would have been enthralled, and would have watched the argument as if it was a tv show.

  
But when it was Lance, he just felt angry. Lance, his Lance at least, as loud but gentle, pushy but not usually argumentative or violent. Whatever that man had said to him had obviously pushed him too far, and that worried him.

The argument had escalated. Lance was now up in this man's face, shouting louder and louder. Shiro could somewhat make out what was being said now, and could hear 'Mamma' and 'don't you dare' being thrown around.

Then the man lifted an arm above his head, and the next thing Shiro knew, Lance was stumbling backwards, face clutched within his hands.

It was at that point that Shiro was aware that he wasn't in control of his body:

  * He pushed himself away from the window, and stormed downstairs in a neat run.
  * He jammed his fingers into the airlock opening mechanism, and was outside before he was aware of his mother shouting behind him.
  * Lance was suddenly in his arms, and was getting blood all over his white shirt from the nose bleed that was currently covering his face.



Really, he hadn't intended for this to happen, but he was here now, and it was incredible.

"Get away from him," he heard himself growl, voice registering in his own ears as if it was travelling through cotton wool.

  
Opposite him, the man snarled, before looking down at the blood that covered his fist and paling. He hastily ran back inside with a jaunt.

It was then that the situation actually hit him.

"Shiro- Shiro, what are you doing?" Lance asked as the smaller boy pushed himself out of his chest.

  
Shiro ran a hand over his cheek, squatting slightly to look over his nose. "I couldn't let him do that to you, I couldn't sit there and watch him." He stumbled over his words, busy checking Lance's nose incase it was broken. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

  
"Jesus fuck, Shiro," Lance cursed with a breathy laugh, moving his hands up to cup Shiro's jaw, "I'm more worried about you."

  
"Why?"

  
Lance's eyes widened. "You're outside?"

Oh shit.  
He was, in fact, outside.

"You okay?"

  
Shiro forced on a smile. "I'm more worried about you, that guy was an asshole, and-"

  
Lance laughed again, nervously this time. "Yeah, well thats-"

"Takashi!"

A pair of arms fixed themselves around his biceps, and he was suddenly pulled away from Lance with a harsh tug. Behind him was Honerva, rushing him back inside the house.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Really, he didn't have an answer.

Lance's shocked, bloodied face was the last thing he was aware of seeing

* * *

 

Naturally, Shiro was sick.

Honerva was halfway through a semi-shouted lecture when he felt a terrifying pain in his stomach, like someone had driven a knife through his gut.

He then vomited and blacked out.

* * *

 

Shiro awoke the next morning to light streaming through his open window. He rolled over to reach for his phone, still aware of the clamminess of his hands and the cold sweat that layered his skin.  
The phone wasn't on the side.  
In the confused silence, he heard shouting from downstairs, and he pushed himself out of bed to amble downstairs.

Once he reached the foot of the stairs, he could see Honerva and Coran in the kitchen, obviously in the middle of a heated argument.

"-And there is no one else here who can facilitate this, this infatuation!”

  
They were arguing over him, go figure.

  
"He's a teenage boy, Honvera," he heard Coran day back, sounding tired and exasperated compared to the angry heat of his mother, "what do you expect him to do, live his entire life in solitude? Of course he's going to want other people, being a teenager is hard enough without parents telling them they can't love people."

  
"But he doesn't need them, they're only going to ruin his life further, you saw how ill he got after this one incident!"

  
"He needs to have other people-"

  
_"He has me!"_

  
His mother was practically screeching now, overpowering Coran's endlessly calm counters.

"So what," Shiro finally piped up, stepping into the room and leaning on the doorway, "what do I do if something happens to you, just live out my life in solitude?"

  
Honerva whipped around, now filling facing him. "Takashi, darling," she fawned, voice suddenly soft and incredibly false, "how are you feeling?" She pulled him into a hug, which he promptly shrugged off.

  
"Lonely."

  
She pulled back, shocked.

  
"I want my phone back," he added coldly, stalking over to the counter and jamming it in his pocket.

"Takashi, honey-"

  
"Mom, stop,"

She shuffled back, shaking her shoulders and straightening her back. "Well, it's a good thing you came down," she stated with a sharp, pursed smile, "Doctor Smyth here would like to say goodbye."

In that moment, Shiro finally felt like the world was crashing down around him.

On his left, Coran was now apologetically studying the floor, passing a briefcase between his fingers.

  
"Coran," Shiro said slowly, "please don't do what I think you're doing."

  
"It's not my decision, my lad, I'm sorry," Coran explained, shooting a glare at Honerva, "I've been fired."

  
"You allowed my son to fraternise with an unknown boy," she spat back, "you allowed him inside, you lied to me, and look what it's done to Takashi!”

  
"He- he never came in," Shiro stammered out, but was stopped by Honerva holding up a blue rubber wristband, inscribed with a band name that Shiro didn't recognise.

  
"Then who does this belong to?"

He knew he couldn't win this.

He felt Coran pull him into a hug, tight and fatherly. "Keep in touch Shiro," he added quietly, wiping a tear off Shiro's cheek that he didn't realised had fallen, "I'll send Keith and Allura around soon, if she will even let them in anymore."

He nodded, and quickly ran out of the room.

As he reached his bedroom once more, he heard the Airlock slide open, and he pulled a leather-bound book out of the bookcase.

Lord of the rings tonight.

* * *

 

 **[18:15] Lance:**  
_Fuck, Shiro, I'm so sorry, your mom looked so mad_

 **[18:15] Lance:**  
_I get it if you can't talk to me anymore, I won't get offended or anything_

 **[18:16] Lance:**  
_I'm so sorry._

 **[18:25] Shiro:**  
_But I held you, and I felt the wind. I'd do it again in a heartbeat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhh it’s all going tits over arse from here, have fun guys!!!  
> As always, feel free to shout at me on my tumblr (Svendidntdieforthis)
> 
> Kudos/comments give Shiro books to read.


	8. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!  
> What’s an update schedule?
> 
> (Warnings for brief suicidal thoughts again- well, at least shiro coming to terms with his own mortality. Such fun stuff for a Thursday evening, right?)
> 
> Also I have no idea how money and gaining credit cards works. Please just don’t think too hard about it.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was official, he had to get out.

After Coran left, Honvera had become even more overbearing. Shiro didn't think that was possible, and yet, here he was.  
Every time he was downstairs with her, she was invasive, prying, asking what he was doing and who he was talking to nearly every time she could. Lance's number was deleted - although Shiro just reregistered it as Keith's new number - and Honerva had left her job to become an internet consultant, so she could watch over him every minute of the day.

  
"I'm doing this because I care about you," she reminded him at least once a day, earning her an eye roll and a huff. The more she said it, the more it seemed fake to Shiro's ears.

  
There was no doubt about it, at this point he'd rather die than than stay here.

* * *

 

 **[10:10] Shiro:**  
_Where did you say you were from?_

 **[10:11] Lance:**  
_Well, I'm from Cuba, but I don't remember it_

 **[10:12] Shiro:**  
_No, you said you moved here from somewhere, dork_

 **[10:12] Lance:**  
_Oh Clearwater!_

Plane tickets to Florida were much cheaper than he thought they would be. All he had heard from Lance was how expensive it would be to go back, and yet the tickets were well below the threshold for the credit card. He could splash out once they got there then, a fancy rental car to get them from the airport, a nice hotel on the front, quality restaurants rather than takeaway.

  
He hoped Lance would like it.

There was a burst of adrenaline as he clicked to book, pressing down the bubble of anxiety that was growing in his chest. He wasn't so much as going outside, he was getting on a plane full of contaminated people, and to a beach with bacteria-filled oceans and a hotel with sheets that hadn't been irradiated.

  
He was probably going to die.  
But he was going to die next to Lance, either surrounded by warm water or soft pillowy sheets, warm and sleepy without wires or overbearing parents.

Shiro was going to run away.

At the thought, he suppressed a hysterical laugh. How was he going to break this to Lance? Surely, Lance wouldn't say no; they'd get in his truck, break it over to the airport, and be gone before anyone would notice. Keith and Allura would be supportive, if bewildered. Keith was always telling him to break for it, Allura would probably just click her tongue and pretend to be distainful.

  
He wouldn't tell Coran. Seeing his face would hurt too much.

The letter he'd written to Honerva was stashed under his desk, ready to be placed for her to find after he's long gone.

Now all he had to do was wait.

* * *

 

Shiro didn't have to wait long. Two days later and he was silently stuffing clothing in a small hand-held bag for a flight that evening. He knew that Honerva had to go out at around six that evening - she needed to go down to her clinic, she had a patient that couldn't be dealt with over the internet - so Shiro had that moment selected to run and grab Lance.

Their plane was at ten, so there would be no way they'd miss it. He'd texted Lance to pack a bag, receiving a confused response but a promise that he would.

"Takashi, I'm off!" He heard Honerva call up the stairs, and Shiro froze.

  
"Okay, I'll see you later," he called back. The lie felt bitter on his tongue.

The moment he heard the airlock slide shut, he ran down the stairs, tearing the letter out of the desk and running back upstairs to place it at the foot of his pristine bed. Hopefully, she should be able to find it easily enough. It explained everything; his loneliness, thirst for life, how he was getting the worst cabin fever locked up in the house for eighteen years, Lance.

  
He grabbed his bag, sticking his phone in his pocket and lacing the shoes he'd bought secretly the week before.

This was it. He was escaping, and this time, it was for good.

A text quickly told Lance to meet him outside, and he left the moment it was sent.

* * *

 

Lance was waiting outside his house when Shiro exited the airlock.

  
"Shiro, what the hell-?"

  
Shiro cut him off by grabbing his wrist, only drawing back once he realised Lance was wincing from the pain.

  
"You don't go back to collage for a while; right?" He asked impatiently, reaching into his bag and feeling slippery card between his fingers.

  
Lance shook his head slowly. "Not for another month or so, why?"

  
"Would you like to go to Clearwater with me?"

"Wait, what?" Lance asked, voice filled with shock. He took a step away from Shiro, who had absentmindedly began bouncing his knee impatiently, "I thought you couldn't go outside, your SCID, remember?"

  
Shiro mentally smacked his head. Of course Lance would remember his illnesses.

  
"I'm on a developing cure," he countered, lie feeling slimy and bitter on his tongue, "Mom thinks a holiday would be a good test of the drugs."

  
Lance didn't seem to be buying this, judging by the hands that sat on his hips, and an eyebrow that had cocked halfway through Shiro's fabrication. "Really?"

  
Shiro hummed in confirmation, hoping Lance wouldn't ask any further.

  
He didn't, and his sceptic face melted into one of pure excitement.

  
"That's awesome, oh my god," Lance finally said, voice raising with happiness, "when's the flight?"

  
"Well, they're for tonight, but I can reschedule-"

  
Lance cut him off by grabbing his upper arms, and pressing a quick kiss into his cheek. "My car might need a bit more gas, but we can get that on the way, right?"

  
"Anything you need, we have six hours, and the airport is only an hour away."

  
"Fantastic, lets go!"

* * *

 

Once Lance had sorted out his things and explained the events to Pidge, Who was stood in the doorway tapping her foot, they were ready.

Lance's car was everything Shiro expected it to be, and he probably should have seen that coming.

It was plain, an old powder blue sedan that growled at every hole in the road, causing Lance to whine each and every time. It smelt like home, slightly musty from the obvious damp patches in the ceiling padding, and was the polar opposite of clean. There was a thrill in it, and Shiro loved it.

The drive to the airport was fairly uneventful. It started off on the wrong foot - just sitting in the car sent Shiro into a small panic attack that he just about managed to calm himself down from - but those memories were quickly buried by the excitement of _Lance_.

He rolled the window down and felt the wind on his face, all whilst educating Lance on drag before remembering the other was about to begin a major in astrophysics.

Even stopping at the gas station was an adventure; the hot dog that Lance swore was a national treasure was rubbery and fake, but he loved it anyway, and he was pretty sure the scent of gas fumes would be clogged in his nose forever.

Once they set off again, Lance flicked the radio on, linked to an old iPod that was sat in the glovebox. Admittedly, he didn't know half the songs, but he listened to them if just to watch Lance sing and sway along whilst navigating the roads like a professional.

  
Eventually, the airport was in sight, demonstrated by an aeroplane flying low over the road they were driving on.

  
"Shiro? You okay? You're not feeling ill, are you?" Lance asked, concerned, as the rumble of plane died away, leaving Shiro staring out of his window in awe.

  
"I'm fine," he replied, slightly breathless from gaping and the childish embarrassment of being caught staring, "I've just never seen a plane before."

  
"Pretty cool, huh?"

  
"Hell yeah."

However the airport? Not as great.

Instead of the relaxed holiday atmosphere he had expected, the main terminal was a mess of exasperated families with tired children, impatient businessmen who had never heard of manners, and tired security workers armed to the nines with guns and heavy bullet proof protection. Their rush to the correct gate led to Shiro forgetting to take his prosthetic off through the metal detectors and setting off every alarm possible.

This further increased his already high panic levels, the bleeping, awkward patting down, and attention from everyone else in the queue almost tipping him over the edge; Lance practically had to lead him away by the hand, looping their hands together whilst Shiro's left knuckle turned white from the grip on his rucksack.

  
He practically cried when Lance finally sat him down in the corner of a Starbucks in the departure lounge.

  
"Any particular order?" He asked with a grin, and Shiro weakly shook his head.

  
"I don't know the menu, I'm sorry."

  
Lance shot him a wild grin, and ruffled his hair as he stood. "Do you trust me?"

  
"You know I do," Shiro replied.

Lance returned with the most garish drink Shiro had ever seen, and slammed it on the small table with a flourish. "I have no idea how much sugar is in this," He explained, laughing at Shiro's awestruck face, "but it should keep you awake enough to beat the jet lag."

  
Cocking an eyebrow, Shiro took a tentative sip.

  
God, was it sweet.

"That good, eh?"

  
"Oh, fuck off."

  
A quick one-fingered gesture had Lance giggling in his seat, and Shiro forgot all about the stress of security.

"Passengers for Orlando International, please go to gate forty. Thank you."

Shiro barely had time to finish his drink before Lance pulled him up by the wrist, dragging him out of the coffee shop and towards the gates.

  
"Hey, Kashi?" Lance called over his shoulder as they neared the queue for boarding, "you excited?”

  
"More than you can possibly imagine."

All thoughts of what he'd left behind were buried under excitement, and if it weren't for the murmur of people and the robotic announcements overhead, he could have lost himself in the moment.

  
Once again, he was thankful for Lance, and with a quick flash of his passport and boarding pass, they were on the plane, and gone.

* * *

 

When Honerva finally pulled into the driveway, the sun was dipping below the horizon; what was a simple half hour job turned into several hour long jobs, as news of her return had spread through the clinic like wildfire.

  
She hoped Takashi was still okay. He'd been acting weirdly before she left, all skittish and secretive. It wouldn't have been the first time he had covered up illnesses, and she hoped it wasn't serious.

She couldn't afford to loose another one.

Keying the passcode into the door, she stepped into the house and went through the motions that she always went through - kick off the shoes, wash her hands, spend ten seconds under the irradiator.  
"Takashi! Sweetheart! I'm home!"

There was no reply.

He's probably got his headphones on, she thought, trying to keep down scared thoughts.

He wasn't in the lounge, watching a movie they'd seen a million times before.

  
He wasn't in the kitchen, burning toast again after hunger forced him out of his room.

  
He wasn't in the sun room, staring wistfully out of the windows like a prisoner who had forgotten what daylight looked like. Takashi has been like that recently, all sober and mournful.

He wasn't even in his bedroom, and that's when Honerva began to panic.

The panic was about to reach her head when she caught sight of a white note on the foot of the bed. ''Mom' it read in what could only have been Takashi's handwriting, a messy meet between cursive and a chicken scratch.

Honerva feared the worst.

Rightfully too.

Her boy, her son, her child, had run away.

  
With the boy next door.

"Police? Yes, I'd like to report a missing person."

Tears mingled silently with ink on the paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And he’s gone, poor lad. At least he’s got Lance with him, right?
> 
> >:D
> 
> Thanks for reading y’all, see you next update! (Fingers crossed I get another one out before Shance support week lmao)


	9. Cruising Altitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Firstly I feel like I need to apologise for the giant-ass gap between chapters. School has recently decided to give me a kick up the arse, along with a sudden decent into some terrible mental health. All that combined with the S5 release, and like,,,,, 3 rando oneshots means I focused very little on this, and I’m sorry :’)
> 
> Either way, here marks the start of a lil bit of fluff, so have fun :D  
> Warnings for minor descriptions of a panic attack, but it’s nothing major.
> 
> Enjoy!

The start of the flight was surprisingly uneventful.

  
Lance fell asleep on Shiro's shoulder shortly after they reached cruising altitude, leaving Shiro to stare numbly at the back of the chair in front of him. He wasn't regretting anything, not yet, not when he was sat on a plane going to his dream location with his love drooling on his shoulder. He didn't even feel ill, not the slightest tinge of a sore throat to hint at anything being wrong. In his sleep, Lance groaned quietly, breath catching in his throat before being released in a soft snore, and Shiro felt his heart melt.

  
"Sh'ro?" He heard Lance drawl, eyes fluttering halfway open as his own snoring shock him awake, "you 'kay?"

  
"I'm fine babe, go back to sleep," he replied with an affectionate huff, moving his arm to ruffle a metal hand through Lance's hair.

  
"Not feelin' ill?"

  
"Not in the slightest." He leaned down to press a kiss into the top of Lance's head, revelling the feeling of the smaller boy attempting to snuggle closer despite the armrest between them. With a flick of blue eyes that seemed to sparkle in the dim cabin lighting, Lance looked out into the rows of seats in front of them, before looking back up at Shiro with what looked like an embarrassed flush now on his cheeks.

  
"Sh'ro stop, I think that man was staring."

  
Shiro grinned and pressed a second kiss into his hair. "Let them stare."

Lance fell asleep again moments later, sitting up to properly lean in the crook of Shiro's neck, and loosely wrapping his hand around Shiro's.

The only problem was that, now, Shiro had nothing to focus on. He'd left his headphones at home in the rush to run, and the prepackaged foamy earbuds in the front pocket felt scratchy in his ears. None of the movies on the small computer looked interesting, and although battleship kept him occupied for a while, the lag of the years old CPU quickly irritated him.

Eventually, he tried to sleep, leaning back onto Lance, but the buzz of the cabin combined with the dimmed, yet still bright, lights that shone through his eyelids when he closed them, meant he couldn't rest.

  
He had no idea how he was going to kill seven hours.

In front of him, Shiro picked up on a small commotion amongst the cabin crew at the front of the plane, before one exited the cockpit. She was apparently reaching to make an announcement, when the plane shook.

  
It wasn't a harsh shake, just a mere rumble that vibrated under his feet and shook the water in the cup in front of him, and suddenly Shiro couldn't breathe.

  
Around him, the cabin was spinning, and the light was stabbing into his eyes like daggers rather than the soft glow he thought it was, causing him to slam his eyes shut.

  
"Shiro."

The shaking got worse.

  
"Shiro."

A ding echoed in his ears.

" _Unfortunately, we've just hit a small patch of turbulence, so the Captain is about to turn the seatbelt lights back on. Please return to your seats, and don't be afraid to ask the cabin crew for assistance. Thank you for your co-operation_!"

  
The hand around his squeezed.  
"Shiro, we're not going to crash, I promise. Can you open your eyes for me?"

  
Slowly, Shiro cracked one eye open, before slowly opening the other. It was surprisingly dark; Lance had clicked off the overhead lights at some point.

  
"Shiro? Back with me?"

  
"I think so," Shiro replied, and wow did his voice sound rough.  
Lance somehow knew what he was thinking, and held the water cup up to Shiro's lips. "Drink for me babe?"

  
Once Shiro had taken a few small sips, he felt himself relax back into his seat, but Lance never looked away. "Do ya' want to talk about it?"

  
Shiro offered him a shaky smile. "The turbulence scared me, I guess," he offered, but Lance didn't seem satisfied, "I'm sorry for scaring you-"

  
"Don't you dare apologise," Lance shot back, shuffling in his seat to look at him as best it would allow, "you feel bad again, tell me, yeah?"

  
"Of course, I'm sorry-"

  
"Shiro." Lance cut him off, wry smile replacing the worried frown. "You're doing it. Again."

  
"Sorry-"

  
"Ah."

  
Shiro resigned himself to flipping up the armrest and burrowing into Lance's side.

  
"Do ya want a nap, big guy?"  
Shiro nodded mutely. Turns out that nearly having attacks tires you out.

  
Lance wrapped his arms around Shiro, pulling him as close as the small plane seats would allow. "Sleep then, I'll protect you, see?"

  
Shiro believed him, and finally fell asleep listening to Lance rattle off facts about planes.

* * *

 

Honerva hadn't moved from her spot on the sofa since she'd rang the police. It was late into the night now, but she couldn't find it in her to move to turn the lights on.

She'd sat with her phone in hand, just in case Takashi rang her; his phone was nowhere to be found, so he'd obviously taken it with him, along with several pieces of clothing and a few personal items. She had also taken to ignoring anyone that tried to ring her, people including Coran, who had somehow heard the news, and a few of her co-workers who she had notified in a fit of panic.

Outside, something moved, and Honerva slammed her head around to see who it was.

  
No one, except the girl who lived next door. Her clothes suggested a party, but her face said she didn't enjoy it.

Wait- she lived next door.

Before Honerva could stop herself, she was up and out of the airlock, hitting the cold air hopefully before the girl reentered her own home.

  
"Excuse me," she called, jogging over as the girl stopped to pull out her earbuds, "is your brother in?"

  
"No?" The girl replied, face morphing into one of confusion.

  
Honerva knew she was desperate now, but if Takashi really was in love with the boy, he was more likely to have done something reckless. "Do you know where he is?"

  
"Again dude, no," the girl parroted, moving to put one earbud back in, "he's probably over at Hunk's, he tends to leave without telling anyone. That's Lance's style, see. Can I go home now?"

Before Honerva could reply, the girl walked off, leaving her stood in the middle of the street.

 

* * *

 

When they touched down in Florida what felt like an age later, it was still quite dark. Lance’s phone, having picked up on the time zone change, flashed a time soon after five in the morning, but it seemed much earlier. Despite having slept most of the way there, he felt dead on his feet; judging by Lance's lethargic display of his passport at the barriers, he felt the same.

"So, how are we getting over to Clearwater?" Lance half-slurred as they exited the arrivals gate, bags in hand.

  
Shiro grinned, taking Lance's free hand and leading him towards the taxi bay. "I booked us something, don't worry."

  
"I thought we would be driving!"

  
"But babe," Shiro stage-whispered, leaning toward Lance as they walked, "we're on holiday, and I'm loaded."

  
"Oh, I love you."

  
Tiredly, Lance pulled Shiro in for a cheeky peck on the lips, giggling as Shiro drew back with a wide grin on his face.

  
"Get the taxi, get the room keys, and then a nap with breakfast in bed later. How does that sound, my liege?" Shiro asked playfully, laughing as Lance linked and swung their arms.

  
"Well, it sounds perfect."

When they finally exited the terminal, the black taxi was waiting outside. In the window was a sheet of paper that read 'Shirogane', and Shiro helped Lance inside with an acted flourish.

Within seconds, Shiro had given directions, and they were away, away from the airport and speeding down the bright Floridian highways. Lance quickly went quiet, hypnotised by the lit up adverts for theme parks and shopping malls, and the reflective expanses of water once they hit the Tampa area.

Shiro, meanwhile, was happy watching the way the light reflected off Lance's skin as the streetlights flew past, and the way he smiled gently as they drove through familiar scenes.

  
"We used to do this drive a lot," he mused softly, breaking Shiro out from his thoughts, "Pidge would always ask to go to the parks for her birthday - it was the only thing she would ever ask for - so once a year, we'd drive up and spend a day at a different park a year, me, her, Momma, and Mom." He sighed, smile faltering for just a second, and Shiro reached over to run a thumb over his knuckles in compassion.

  
"Wish you could go back, huh?"

  
"I guess." He wiped at his eyes with his jacket sleeve, before sending Shiro a weak grin and squeezing his hand. "But I'm here with you now, which is awesome, and we're gonna' have the best holiday ever."

  
"Well, I'm glad I'm here with you," Shiro added, tipping forward slightly to lean on Lance's shoulder, "I know nothing about this place, you can show me all the locals secrets."

  
Laughing, Lance pushed him away. "I knew there was a real reason you brought me."

  
"Damn, you saw through my ruse!"

It took them a moment to notice the car had drawn to a stop, and the grand oceanside hotel stood tall outside the window.

  
Soon, Shiro had paid the driver, and they were in.

* * *

 

It had taken them longer than they had intended to get the room keys.

When they entered the hotel, there was no receptionist to be seen, and refused to be seen despite both of them ringing the counter-top bell several times.

Once a girl did arrive, Lance spent at least ten minutes half flirting, half arguing with the receptionist, telling her that, no, there wasn't a mistake, and yes, him and Shiro had definitely booked a double room to share.

The bed was the greatest thing he'd seen in his life.

"Crow, Shiro," Lance said in awe as he crashed backwards onto one side of the plush king bed, "this place is amazing."

  
"Look outside," Shiro replied as he dumped his bag on a chair, "it's even better out there."

  
Shooting him a confused look, Lance slowly rose from the bed, moving towards the curtained balcony doors. "If you're having me on, I swear-"

The view met his eyes, and Lance fell quiet.  
Laughing beneath his breath, Shiro moved next to him, sliding his arms around Lance's waist and pressing a gentle kiss where his jaw met his neck. "That's good, huh?"

  
Meeting them was a large expanse of ocean, calm in the morning winds and glittering as the sun began to rise behind the hotel; the view was almost breathtaking, but to Shiro, the most ethereal sight was Lance's wonder.

  
"How much did this set you back?" Lance eventually asked, voice weak and watery.

  
"An amount that I'd pay three times over if I get to spend it with you."

  
"Shiro?”

  
Another kiss was pressed onto his neck. "Yeah?"

  
"That's really soppy."

With a click of his tongue, Shiro moved back to the bed, shrugging off his vest to lie down. "You gonna' come to bed or what?"

  
"Oh fine, you impatient ass."

  
Tearing himself away from the door, Lance tossed his jacket onto a large armchair in the corner before crawling across the bed to lie next to Shiro.

  
"Darn, this bed is like sleeping on clouds," Lance said with a sigh, stretching like a cat.

  
Shiro snickered quietly. "It better be."

  
"Oh hush, it's time for sleep."

With a slight grunt of effort, Lance shuffled forwards on the bed, nestling his head in the crook of Shiro's neck and trapping his arms between his chest and Shiro's. In response, Shiro loosely wrapped his around Lance, pulling him as close as comfortable.

  
"Hey Shiro?" Lance slurred once they'd settled.

  
"Hmm?"

  
"This is our first night, as an actual couple."

  
Shiro felt what kind of felt like his insides melting, and kissed Lance one final time that night. "And it won't be the last, love."

It was then, that they fell asleep, just as the sun rose over the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know they go to Hawaii in the actual film, but like, I’ve been to Clearwater and will do anything to revel in memories bc I’m a sentimental sod, so I hope you don’t mind me changing it :D
> 
> Kudos/Comments let Shiro and Lance sleep longer


	10. Clearwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I know it’s been like 3 months hush :’)
> 
> I hope y’all like this chapter!!! This one was my favourite to write so far :D!!!!!!  
> (Mostly bc I got to draw upon good memories of fam holidays in Clearwater, all is good in the world for the first time since February it’s been a really good day)
> 
> Also there is a very very very gentle reference to sex towards the end; it’s like two sentences, but just a warning for any of y’all!!
> 
> Enjoy!!!

They woke up that morning to the sound of knocking on the door.

"Crow, dude," Lance replied in a low groan as Shiro began to move, "room service, this early?"

  
"It's half past nine, Lance," Shiro replied with a rough laugh, causing Lance to huff and roll over, "and I may have pre-booked breakfast? I had a feeling we'd be too tired to wake up in time."

  
Across the bed, one sceptical eye cracked open. "Breakfast? Can I eat it in bed?"

  
"Why not?"

  
With a stretch, Shiro rose to go answer the door, leaving Lance to roll over once again and bury his face in the pillow. When he opened the door, the same receptionist from yesterday was smiling apologetically, before pushing a large silver platter into his hands, piled high with pastries, pancakes, and a few covered plates of what he assumed was hot food.

"It looks good," Lance called eagerly as Shiro shut the door and placed the platter on the table by the wall, "I'm calling first dibs."

  
With a dramatic sigh, Shiro fell back into a chair. "I guess I'll go hungry then."

  
"Rude!" Lance called out, clicking his tongue as he slid off the bed to assess the platter, "what should I leave you? One bagel, or one cinnamon roll?"

  
"One of everything would be nice."

  
Cheekily, Lance peeked unter the hot plate covers. "So, you only want one hash brown and only one rasher of bacon? That's fine, I can eat five hash browns, just watch-"

  
"Lance," Shiro butted in, moving to hip check Lance as he reached over for one of the pastry plates, "as much as I believe in your skill, you're not touching my hash browns."

  
"Are you sure?" Lance asked, voice suddenly syrupy and eyes big.

And damn, did Lance look pretty when he did that, and Shiro was a weak, weak man-

"Hands off my hash browns!"

  
Lance laughed, loud and genuine, as he hastily slammed the lid back on the hot plate, pulling Shiro away from the table and back towards the bed. Before he could push Shiro against the bed, Shiro turned, pinning Lance under him against the edge of the bed, and kissing him soundly on the lips.

  
He tasted of sleep and buttery pastry, and Shiro discovered he could easily get addicted to this.

  
"Well, someone slept well," he heard Lance say as he pulled back momentarily, "I guess I did say I wanted breakfast in bed-"

  
"This is your fault," Shiro shot back breathlessly, poking a finger into his chest, causing Lance to gasp, scandalised.

  
"My fault?" He asked, exaggerated grin on his face, "how could this ever be my fault?"

  
"You did the thing," Shiro explained, moving his hands to sit on Lance's hips, "you know, the thing where you make your eyes go big, like a puppy."

  
"Puppy-dog eyes?"

  
"Yeah, that."

  
Lance laughed loudly, wrapping his arms around Shiro's shoulders. "If you're gonna' kiss me like that every time I make puppy-dog eyes at you, I'm gonna start doing it more often, you know that?"

  
"Well, now I do," Shiro said, and moved in to kiss Lance again until a hand shoved his face away.

  
"Dude," Lance forced through laughter at Shiro's exaggerated pouts, "the food's gonna' go cold."

  
"The bed's gonna' go cold.”

  
A finger pressed against his lips. "We can warm the bed up again later, but I don't see a microwave anywhere."

  
With a sigh, Shiro sat up, no longer pinning Lance to the bed. "Fine," he said with a huff, "but you're making up for this later."

  
"A debt I will happily pay," Lance replied with a smirk, "but crow, dude, I'm hungry. Now sit up, or, seriously - stop laughing, Takashi Shirogane - I'm gonna' eat your hash browns."

* * *

 

Once breakfast plates had been cleared, and Lance had pulled him into the walk-in shower with a teasing smile, they were finally ready to hit the beach.

  
That was, until they realised that Shiro had absolutely nothing to swim in.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Lance asked curiously as they made their way down a sandy trail to a beach shop on the promenade, "but, like, you can swim, right?"

  
"Babe, of course I can," Shiro replied with a chuckle, "Coran taught me when I was younger, back when we had the swimming pool in the basement. I just forgot my trunks in the rush-"

  
He was cut off by Lance spluttering and looking at him wildly. "You had a basement pool? As in, past tense? Why would you give up a basement pool?"

  
"It got too small for me to be useful," he replied with a shrug, "so Mom turned it into a gym that I could actually use."

  
"Well that explains it!" Lance ran over, and Shiro felt a finger jab into his bicep. "That explains why you're so built!"

  
An older couple walking past shot them an odd look.

  
"Lance, right here?" Shiro asked, embarrassed, hoping his flush wasn't too visible.

  
"Well, excuse me for being in awe of my buff-as-Thor boyfriend," Lance replied with a huff, tossing his head to one side, "now come on, I wanna' see what you look like in Speedos."

  
"I'm not wearing Speedos!" Shiro shot back, chasing Lance into the shop with a laugh.

The clerk looked up, smiled wryly, and went back to scrolling through his phone.

Honestly, the shop was huge. On one side, swimming costumes and wetsuits lined racks held to the walls, and the other was filled with inflatables and body boards with cartoon characters printed on the front.

There seemed to be items shoved into every nook and cranny of the shop, all covered in bright colours and childish, bubbled writing proclaiming names and brands and uses. There was just everything, everywhere, and yet he couldn't seem to find anything at all. All he wanted was something to swim in, not half of the stuff in here. It was almost overwhelming-

"Hey, Shiro!" He heard Lance call, snapping him out of his thoughts, "Do you prefer black, or blue?"

  
He was over on the other side of the shop, holding two patterned pairs of swimming trunks up in the air.

  
"Uh, black!" Shiro replied, walking over to see Lance shuffling through sizes on the rack, "Do you need a pair? I didn't remember seeing any in your rucksack."

  
"I'll get the blue ones," Lance said easily, "we'll match across the beach!"

It didn't take long for Shiro to pay for the two pairs of trunks, and, after a quick change in the shop changing rooms, Lance was dragging Shiro by the wrist towards the beach.

There was going to be bacteria in that water. Bacteria and bugs and life in that water that could, and would, kill Shiro in the blink of an eye. Would Lance mind if he ducked out? Went back to the hotel to hide in the shower and pray he didn't ask questions?-  
No, he'd set out to be in the ocean, to feel the water on this skin and to see Lance next to him, the sun glinting off the sea and making Lance's skin glow in that way that made him look like a god.

"It's amazing, I promise," he assured him as Shiro's feet first touched the sand, "just, trust me?"

Shiro hummed, unsure, as he tested his balance on the shifting sand beneath him. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just-"

  
"Shiro?" Lance had stopped, stepping close to Shiro to lace their fingers together. "What's up?"

  
"I- it's nothing," he said, shaking his head, "let's go, yeah? I thought you said you wanted to be in the sea as soon as possible."

  
He was about to walk off when Lance tightened his grip on Shiro's hand.

  
"You're scared you're gonna' get sick, aren't you."

Shiro just stood, quiet in the hum of the beach and eyes focused on the sand.

"Look at me," Lance said, softly but forcefully, and Shiro turned to meet his eyes, "you're gonna' be fine, yeah? You're outside, you've been on planes, and in taxis, and in a hotel room that's probably filthy compared to your house, and have you been sick yet?"

  
"No-"

  
"See?" Lance was practically bouncing now, eye-level with Shiro and squeezing his hand in a regular pulse, "if you were gonna' be sick, you would be by now."

  
Just for now? Shiro could believe that.  
He nodded, smiling slowly as Lance's face slowly lit up, before pulling Shiro down to place a kiss on his lips.

  
"And if you feel ill, just say and we'll run back to the hotel," Lance followed up as be began to lead Shiro to the waters edge, "It's, what, five minutes away?"

  
"Trust me," Shiro replied with a wry laugh, "you'll know if I anything less than good."

It wasn't long before Lance was waist deep in the water, calling Shiro in with open arms.

He took one step. Water came up to his ankle, warm and gently lapping against his skin in time with the tide.

  
Another foot, another step, and the water was up to his shins, then his knees, then his thighs, and soon Lance was pulling him into his arms and off the seabed. Then, Lance was kicking his legs somewhere beneath Shiro's own frozen ones, away from the beach, until the water was lapping over his stomach, his chest, his shoulders.

"You feelin' okay, Shiro?"

He left Lance stop, and cracked open an eye to see that they were now floating in the open sea, a short distance from the previously close beach. His feet were brushing the sand on the seabed, but he didn't feel like he was going to drown; Lance's arms were locked around his waist, not letting the waves lap any higher than his neck.

  
"I'm- I'm fine," he replied, a hint of amazement in his voice, "It's just-"

  
"What is it?"

  
Shiro laughed, slightly hysterically to his own ears. "I've dreamt my whole life of being here, and now I'm here, and you're here, and I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be."

  
In front of him, he could see Lance visibly melt before him.  
"Shiro, I-"

  
"Please," he interrupted, "call me Takashi."

Lance's grin, if anything, got wider. "Alright then, Takashi, what if I told you there's nowhere I'd rather be as well?"

  
"Really?"

  
"Yep," Lane confirmed with a nod, laughing quietly as Shiro got gently splashed with a rogue wave, "I'm basically home again, with my amazing boyfriend, in the warm sea with the sun shining overhead. I'm not exaggerating when I say I'm in seventh heaven right now."

Before he could stop himself, Shiro rushed forward, pressing his lips to Lance's. All he could taste and smell was seasalt and the sun cream that he had persuaded Lance to put on back at the hotel; even Lance himself tasted of the salty tang of the sea, and the last thing Shiro saw before his eyes fluttered shut was Lance, glowing in the light and reflections. He could feel Lance's hands skirt around the edges of his shorts and the lapping of waves on his shoulders.

  
"I love you," Lance whispered against his lips, and Shiro responded by running dripping fingers through his hair. Somehow, Lance pressed closer, taking Shiro by surprise and running teeth over his bottom lip, and-

  
A wave hit them, and Shiro pushed back in shock, spitting water as he did.

"Fuck, Lance, I'm sorry-"

  
But Lance, beautiful, wonderful Lance, was laughing, loud and full; Shiro couldn't help but laugh along with him.

  
"Please, don't apologise," Lance forces through laughter, "that was the best kiss of my life."

* * *

 

They stayed on the beach until the sun had finally dipped below the horizon, Lance having forced Shiro to sit on a picnic bench with a polystyrene plate of chips to watch the sunrise.

All Shiro could think of was how beautiful Lance looked in the reds and oranges of the setting sun.

"Hey, Kashi," Lance whispered once the sun had set fully, "how about we take this back to the hotel?"

  
"That," Shiro replied, grinning widely, "sounds fantastic."

Sure, maybe the bed had gone cold as the day went on.  
But Lance kept up his promise to warm it up again as he pressed Shiro into the mattress once they got back.

  
At first, Shiro was worried the hotel would complain, but as Lance began to kiss lower and lower down his chest, he found he really didn't care.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Shiro was aware of when he woke up was his wicked urge to piss.

Lance was still asleep next to him, but Shiro managed to worm out from under his arm without quite waking him, grabbing Lance's discarded jacket from the chair to wrap around himself as he plodded to the bathroom.

Then he felt a knife in his stomach, twisting harshly, stabbing and slicing and ripping-

The next thing he was aware of was the toilet bowl, as he retched and retched until he wasn't sure there was anything left.

"Takashi, you okay?"

  
Lance was opening the door, and Shiro was still on his knees. He tried to stand, but any movement made the room spin and swim before his eyes.

  
"Takashi? Takashi!”

  
Lance's voice was there, but sounded like it was coming through cotton wool, and he was too hot, but Lance's jacket was very comfortable, and the tiled floor looked very nice-

He heard Lance cry, and rush for his phone, and then everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooh Drama >:)
> 
> We’re in the endgame now y’all


	11. Waking up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro wakes up, and is forced to deal with everything he left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I s w e a r I’m not dead.  
> I’m so sorry for the huge gap in chapters! Hopefully they’ll be more frequent from now on, I want all the chapters written by september - Not much longer to go!
> 
> So, have some drama >:D
> 
> Enjoy!

When Shiro next woke up, it was to the steady beeping of a heart-rate monitor.

He felt drained, as if he was swimming through cotton wool in order to reach consciousness. His vision was blurred, greyed and tunnelled at the edges, and whatever he was staring at must have been white anyway since he could only just make out the swirling circular patterns.

Wherever he was, he was warm, tucked up to the chest in a blanket; sure, his arms were exposed to let the needles and monitors on his left arm flow freely. The beeping of the monitors was accompanied by a buzzing white noise, filling the space and overwhelming his senses with a static-like charge.

He almost didn't notice a dip in the mattress by his side, not until a blurred face appeared in his sights.

Could that be-?  
It had to be.

"Lance?" He stuttered out, attempting to lift his right hand but-

A hand gently stroked over his shoulder.

His arm had gone. Again.

Had Lance taken his arm? No, wait, he wouldn't do that. But why was Lance here? He didn't want him - Lance, beautiful, wonderful Lance, who smelt and tasted of the oceans he held in his eyes - to see him like this.

"Takashi," the figure cooed, a second hand appearing to smooth through his hair, "Takashi, it's me."

That wasn't the voice he wanted to hear.

Fingers rolled over skin and scar tissues once again, in time with the pricking of tears in his eyes.  
"Say something, Takashi, tell me you're awake."

"I hear you, mom," he replied, throat burning and scratching from disuse, and he heard Honerva practically crying from relief.

But Lance wasn't here. Lance was somewhere else, after Shiro had ruined easily the best holiday of his life after just one day.

The hand on his face smoothed over his  cheeks, wiping tears into his skin.

"It's okay, Takashi," she whispered, choked but gentle, and Shiro felt himself keen to the touch, yearning for just a bit of familiarity in his hazy hell, "you're going to be okay."

He felt himself whimper slightly, vision beginning to tunnel again. He could feel himself slip away again, and the hand on his shoulder squeezed gently.  
"Rest now, Takashi, I'll be here when you wake up."

He let himself sleep.

* * *

 

When Shiro woke up again, he was surprisingly more lucid.

He was more aware of the IV in his arm, and the oxygen pipe under his nose. His arm was back, but it couldn't have been there for long; there wasn't the ache in his shoulder that came after having it on for ages.

He was also aware of a phantom pain in his stomach, albeit more of a tentative poke than the stabbing he remembered.

Oh yeah, he'd collapsed in his and Lance's bathroom in a Clearwater hotel.

So how the hell was he currently in his own bed, in his home in suburban Anaheim?

"Takashi?" He heard a voice from the doorway call, and he turned his head to get a better look.

Honerva was lingering in the door, still in full doctor's scrubs, with the most broken expression on her face. Even from this distance, he could see tear tracks, either from sorrow or relief.

Either way, he had caused them.

"Mom?" He replied, wincing at the scratch of his throat.

She visibly teared up in response, hands flying to her mouth, before practically running to his side. A hand appeared on his, thumb running over mechanical knuckles as she kneeled next to him.

"What happened?" He rasped, and Honvera gave a small, hysterical laugh.

"Your immune system failed," she explained, squeezing his hand in time with each syllable, "you got taken to hospital before I moved heaven and earth to bring you home."

She stood slightly, leaning over to press a kiss to his clammy forehead.  
"I'm glad you're home Takashi, I'm glad you're alive."

He chuckled. "So am I."

She moved again, only for a straw to appear next to his mouth. A few tentative sips told him it was just water, nothing else.

Once the glass was put back on the side, Honerva's hand returned to his forehead, carding through his forelock.

"I'm not expecting you to talk right away," she started, and Shiro felt his stomach sink for an entirely different reason, "but when you want to tell me why you did this, why you left-"

She stopped, stopping for a moment to collect herself.

"I'm here for you, Takashi, to talk about anything."

He nodded, swallowing the bitter guilt that had crawled up his throat like a cockroach.

"Thanks, Mom," he finally forced out, slapping a grimace on his face, "I'm sorry."

She didn't respond, instead smiling sadly and standing. Another stroke of his unwashed hair, and she wandered to the door, leaving Shiro alone once again.

He then noticed that his phone was on the side, charging for what must have been the first time in days.

With a stretch, he reached over, pulling the phone from the plug. It was on already, screen lighting up with the lock screen - he'd have to change it soon, to the picture he'd had with Lance on the beach that a friendly tourist had offered to take.

**[11;37] Keith:**  
_(9) new messages  
(7) missed calls_

**[11:37] Allura:**  
_(3) new messages  
(6) missed calls_

**[11:37] Coran:**  
_(8) new messages  
(11) missed calls_

**[11:37] Mom:**  
_(26) new messages  
(26) missed calls_

**[11:37] Lance:**  
_(17) new messages  
(10) missed calls_

With a sigh, Shiro fell back against the bed, locking the phone again and letting it fall into his lap.

Really, he didn't know what he expected. Of course his friends would be worried, of course his mother would have panicked.

Of course, Lance would be blaming himself.

Shiro had been a complete and total asshole. An idiot. A terrible, horrible, pathetic human being.

He should get started on those messages.

* * *

 

"Hey, Lance, can I come in?"

That was Pidge, for the fourth time this morning.

Lance just shook his head, fully aware she couldn't see that, and retreated further onto the corner of the bed.

"I've brought Hunk, and we have news!"

There was a shuffling, and a second, heavier knock on the door.

"I come bearing gifts of garlic knots and news, Lance, please?"

He couldn't really say no to that.

"Fine," he replied, standing and wiping madly at his face. He knew that Pidge knew he had practically cried for three days straight, ever since he got flown home from Florida, but hopefully Hunk wouldn't be able to tell.

The door slowly creaked open, letting Hunk and Pidge slowly creep in.

"Lance, dude," Hunk said slowly, placing the tray of garlic knots on the side and holding his arms out in invitation, "I'm so sorrry."

Lance shrugged lamely, dragging his feet as he walked over to practically fall into the hug. As he relaxed into Hunk's chest, two strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, and a guiding hand let him rest his head on Hunk's collar.

"Pidge told me what happened," he continued, squeezing Lance just that bit tighter as he felt a second, smaller pair of arms latch around his waist, "it sounds rough, buddy."

"Tell me about it," Lance replied with a sniffle, moving to shoot hunk a self-deprecating grin before falling back against his chest, "like I know it's not his fault, I just- crow, dude, I don't know."

"But it's not your fault either," Pidge piped up, "he knew what he was signing up for, it wasn't your responsibility."

Lance shrugged, and Hunk loosened his arms just enough for him to reach across to grab a garlic knot from the tray. "I still should've looked out for him, or, y'know, not taken him in the gross, dirty seawater at the first chance I got-"

"Or maybe he shouldn't have agreed to it in the first place," Hunk countered, releasing Lance to sit heavily on the edge of his bed, "like Pidge said, he knew the risks, dude, it was his choice."

Lance shrugged again, stuffing the garlic knot in his mouth before grabbing the tray.

"It's just that, at the airport, his mom looked so mad," he explained once he had swallowed, sitting next to Hunk whilst Pidge clambered over to sit on his other side, "like, as if it was my fault? But if I wasn't there and Shiro was alone, he wouldn't have got the hospital in time, right?"

"I guess," Hunk replied with a hum, "and they saved him, so I'm sure he's fine."

There was a buzz on Lance's right, and he turned his head to see Pidge whip her phone out of her jacket pocket.

"Keith says he's back in the land of the living," Pidge read, leaning over to show Lance and Hunk the message, "apparently he's just rang, but sounds like actual shit."

"I never saw him use his phone whilst he was there," Lance mused, "do you think he really had permission from his mom?"

Pidge frowned. "Wait, why did he ask you anyway?"

"Well, he told me that his mom had told him to have an 'experimental holiday'," he explained, holding his hands up to form quotation marks, "just to test a new drug he was on that helped his SCID."

Sighing, he looked down at his hands folded in his lap, fiddling with dead skin on his fingers.

"Wait, a 'cure for SCID'?" Hunk asked, face morphing into one of anger, "dude, my mom's a medical technician; if there was a cure for SCID, trust me, she'd know about it."

"Oh, great," Lance said sarcastically, falling back against the bed, "so he lied to me, twice, and I believed him, which nearly got him killed. Wonderful."

Pidge snorted sadly, shooting him a grimace. "Some boyfriend then, huh?"

"And do you want to know, the hands-down, worst thing about it?"

"That you didn't get time to buy a souvenir fridge magnet?" Hunk asked, grinning slightly, only for Lance to punch him gently in the arm.

"No, Hunk," he said flatly, before lying back down to gaze at the ceiling, "It's that, somehow, I still love him, y'know?"

"Of course you would, He was essentially your boyfriend," Pidge suggested, helping herself to a garlic knot, "and if it helps, it wasn't just you he lied to. Keith said he ditched everyone, no phone call, no message or where he'd gone, except for a note for his Mom saying some angsty teenager stuff about not being able to live in a cage anymore."

"He always wanted to go to the ocean," Lance mused, "practically teared up the first time he saw it."

"Not to play Devil's Advocate or anything," Hunk butted in, holding his hands up defensively, "but like, can you blame him? I'd wanna' run away as well if I'd been stuck inside for my entire life."

"I guess you have a point," Lance groaned, holding his phone up above his head-

**[12:15] Shiro:**  
_Lance? Sweetheart, I'm so sorry_

"Hey, guys?" Lance asked, as Hunk and Pidge swivelled round to face him comfortably, "he's texted."

"Who?"

"Shiro, duh," Pidge groaned, and Hunk grinned sheepishly.

"Oh yeah, sorry. What's he said?"

"Just an apology at the moment," Lance read, "should I text him back?"

"Of course," Hunk said, "you two really need to talk."

Lance nodded, before focusing back on his phone to type out a message.

**[12:18] Lance:**  
_Can you talk right now?_

**[12:19] Shiro:**  
_Of course, I feel like I need to explain myself_

**[12:19] Lance:**  
_You really do_

The phone flashed seconds later with the incoming call screen, and Lance looked up at the others.

"Go for it," Pidge said, and Hunk nodded in agreement.

He swiped his finger, and held the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

He was met with the sound of heavy, broken breathing, and an ambient beeping somewhere in the white noise.

"Shiro?"

_"Jesus, Lance, I'm so sorry, so, so sorry."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhhh, it’s pretty much all downhill from now >:D
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!!!
> 
> EDIT 6/10/18: IM SO FUCKIN SORRY ajdbajsbd ‘I’ll try and update more regularly’ my ASS DX  
> Basically this is going on hiatus for a bit, at least until I’ve finished my reality AU bang. Life crunched on me HARD, I’m so sorry, but I’m not giving up! I’m like three chapters away from ending this in my drafts, so thank y’all so much for sticking with me, and im so sorry once again.


	12. Phone call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evenin’ kids :’)
> 
> So like, I haven’t updated this in AGES and I’m so sorry ;-; I thought I would have time on my hands, but this school year turned in a mess of studies and rehearsals and my personal life suddenly getting a whole lot more interesting!  
> (I mean, I’m going against my posting schedule since I haven’t finished another chapter but I wanted to post something, y’know?)
> 
> Hope this is okay for y’all!  
> Enjoy!

To hear Lance's voice again was-

Well, Shiro couldn't quite describe it

There was a relief, a deep, heartwarming relief that he had even picked up the phone. Every part of him lurched at his voice through the tinny speakers, and he felt his heart swell with an affection he didn't even know he had. To be honest, he would have understood if Lance had deleted his number, blocked his calls and let him alone.   
But no, Lance was there, having answered his call almost immediately.

Maybe he hadn't ruined this completely after all.

"Jesus, Lance," he said quickly, aware of the hitch in his voice and the speed at which the words were tumbling out of his mouth, "I'm so- I'm so sorry."

 _"I know,"_ came the reply, harsh and short through the receiver, _"you have a lot of explaining to do."_

"I know, I know," he stammered, hardly hearing Lance over the thumping of his heart in his ears, "I just- I just needed to get away."

There was the huff on Lance's side, and the signature muffled hum of someone covering the speaker with a hand, before the tell-tale squeak of door hinges and two sets of footsteps getting quieter.

"Lance?"

A bit more muffled talking, and a harsh laugh.

_"Go on then."_

"What?"

The eye roll Lance sent him was practically audible. _"Explain."_

But where to begin?

"My mom," he started, taking a deep breath as he readied himself, "she found out about you - about us. It was my fault, and I should have been more careful, but-"

 _"Was that when Andrew-"_ Lance coughed, cutting himself off. He wasn't alone in that room- _"was a bit of a asshole on the drive?"_

"Yeah," Shiro replied with a sad laugh, "she found your wristband and the messages on my phone."

_"So?"_

"Well, she- She fired Coran."

There was a gasp from the end of the phone, and Lance clicked his tongue loudly in distain. _"Doctor Smyth? The ginger dude who threatened to throw me to Woblay if I hurt you?"_

Coran had made quite the impression, it seemed.

"That's him."

Another gasp. _"She threw him out? Like, fired? Gone?"_

"Yep," he confirmed, nodding although he knew Lance couldn't see it, "she blamed him for my 'obsession' with you, called him an enabler or some shit."

 _"That's horrible,"_ Lance spat in reply, _"what the fuck?"_

For a moment then, it almost felt like it was before, like late night rant sessions all over again.

He heard Lance sigh; he must have noticed this too.

"Yeah," Shiro replied lamely, falling back against the cushions. Part of him wanted to stand, yank that damn IV out of his arm and throw himself to the window, just for the chance to see Lance, wave at him awkwardly like it was May again and wait for Lance to scribble his number on the window in sharpie. He wanted to see him grin without pixelation or the haze that came with memories, bright and real in front of him.

But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't see a smile, nor a grin. The sparkle of those blue eyes would be gone; for good, maybe, he didn't know. Replaced by betrayal, hatred possibly, hurt.

He couldn't bring himself to see that.

"I'm sorry I took my - I don't know - rebellion out on you," he said, slowly, quietly, and there was an air of finality in the room, "I don't know what I was thinking."

There was a pause on Lance's end, a muffled mutter and the pips that came from the microphone being tossed around.

 _"You were desperate,"_ Lance offered, and the tenderness in his voice made Shiro want to cry, _"I- I get that, I mean, if I was in your situation, I probably would be as well."_

"Doesn't mean it was the right thing to do though," Shiro countered, and guilt began to pool in his lungs, "I hurt you- damnit, you could've had to watch me die! I should never have put you through that, I-"

 _"Kashi,"_ came the sighed reply, and Shiro stopped immediately, _"stop."_

"But, I-"

_"You remember July fourth? When we started dating?"_

How could he possibly forget? That was easily the best day of his life.

 _"When I agreed to date you, that was including your illness,"_ he explained, voice a stark contrast from the steely anger at the beginning of the conversation, _"and sure, that comes with risk, but you could've died any day-"_

"Lance, you're not making sense-"

 _"Look, I know what I'm trying to say here!"_ Lance practically shouted down the phone, _"It's that I love you! Illness or not, I love you! I knew what I was signing up for, damnit!"_

Lance-  
Lance still loved him.

After all this, through heartbreak and a near death experience in a Clearwater hotel bathroom, Lance still loved him.

"I- I love you too," Shiro replied, suddenly aware of how dry his throat was, how scratchy his voice was, "but-"

_"But what?"_

"Lance, I-"

It was now or never.

"I can't keep doing that is."

There was silence over the phone, the sound of his breathing only just audible.

_"T-Takashi?"_

"You deserve someone better, Blue," he forced out, pet name feeling like sand in his mouth, "someone who won't die on you, and can help you when you're down, can visit and can hold you properly-"

 _"I don't need that,"_ Lance replied, and the desperation in his voice feels like a knife in Shiro's gut, _"I need- I want you, Shiro, I-"_

"Lance, please." There were tears in his eyes that he didn't realise he had, pinpricking his eyelashes and burning on his face. "Move on. Forget about me. Find someone better, find someone who can love you properly. It's- It's better for both of us."

 _"So you're just gonna' leave me here,"_ Lance said, excruciatingly slowly, _"hurting, and alone?"_

"Find someone who doesn't make you feel alone then-"

_"You make me feel less alone."_

Why?  
How?

"Lance, please-"

 _"I'm not leaving you, that's final,"_ Lance stated, leaving Shiro practically speechless, _"but, I need a break, you need a break, let's talk later."_

There was a break in his voice, a squeak that shouldn't have been powerful.

Those tears in Shiro's eyes nearly spilled.

He nodded solemnly, humming once he was aware that Lance couldn't see that.

_"And Takashi?"_

"Yes?"

_"I love you. So much."_

"I love you too, Lance, I'm-"

A click met his ears before the final apology could tumble from his lips.

He didn't realise he was crying until he saw the splashes appear on his phone screen.

~

He had cut off before Shiro could finish his sentence, but he was fairly sure he knew what it was going to be.

Lance loved Shiro, deeply, with at least two thirds of his heart, but damn he needed to stop apologising.

With a gentle toss, he threw the phone onto the end of his bed, glaring at it as if it was the sole cause behind all of his problems. Part of him wanted to cry, bury his face in a pillow and sob until there was nothing left, until his throat was raw and his eyes were so dry they stung.

The other part of him, the larger part, was numb. It felt like static in his veins, surging and pulsing and humming under his skin with a harsh, angry energy.

Shiro had just tried to break up with him, after all.

"Lance?" A hesitant voice called from the other side of the door, and his head snapped around to the audience he forgot he had, "You okay buddy?"

Lance shrugged, feeling his sight unfocus as his hands folded in his lap. What had just happened, anyway?  
"I- I don't know," he replied earnestly, before the bedroom door swung open with a crash.

The next thing he knew, two sets of arms were locked around him; one pair tight around his middle, the other, smaller pair around his shoulders.   
"What did the bastard say?" Pidge pressed, angrily kneeling on the bed all whilst never moving her arms from Lance's neck.

Lance shrugged again, letting his head rest in Hunk's chest. "He seemed really, really sad," he explained, letting Hunk run his hands calmingly along his sides, "and I think he tried to break up with me."

Hunk frowned in thought, moving Lance with him as he shifted into a more comfortable position. "What that the whole 'you need a break, I need a break' deal?"

"Yup." Lance nodded, face twisting in thought. "I think he's being pressured into it by his mom, so I told him to think about it and call me back later."

"Wait, what else did he say?" Pidge asked again, unwrapping her arms so that she could look Lance in the face, "motive? Mysterious backstory? Childhood trauma?"

"His mom's a dick," Lance replied simply. Sure, that wasn't quite the full story, and he knew there was a lot that Shiro hasn't told him, but that was the shortened version. "Recently fired his father equivalent because he attempted to make Shiro happy by letting me in, and barred his two only friends from the house, essentially cutting him off from the world. Kind of a dick move, y'know?"

"Kind of?" Hunk shot back, frowning angrily, "that's, that's pretty gross."

Pidge's phone buzzed again, and she whipped it out of her pocket to study the message.

"Pidgey?"

"Keith and Allura are in," she said quickly, still scanning through the text, "apparently, he looks like shit as well as sounding like it, something about crying like a baby etcetera etcetera-"

"Shit," Lance swore suddenly, averting his eyes from Pidge, "that wasn't my fault, was it?"

"Dunno'," Pidge said with a quirk of an eyebrow, "It's probably over you, but not your fault."

Hunk squeezed his middle gently, a reassuring weight that Lance was forever thankful for. "It'll be okay, dude, don't worry."

There was a crash underneath them, followed by unintelligible shouting and the sound of glass smashing, and he saw Pidge wince at the noise.

Man, he hoped Hunk was right.

~

"Shiro!"

He'd only been off the phone for a little while when Keith crashed through the door, skidding to a halt in the middle of the room before running to his bedside. "Shiro, fuck dude, are you okay?"

He opened his mouth to reply, wiping at his eyes, only for Allura to follow him in.

"Takashi, you complete idiot," she said before he could even breathe, "you complete and utter idiot-"  
She stopped, leaning down to press a gentle kiss onto his forehead. "Never do that again, okay?"

He nodded, smiling sadly. "I'm sorry."

Allura moved back, perching on the bed elegantly, whilst Keith looped his hands around Shiro's metal one.  
"We thought you were dead," he said quietly, words hanging in the air like gas.

He didn't really have words for that. No apology could ever fully attempt to cover that.

He resorted to squeezing Keith's hand instead, timing his breathing with each movement.

"So why?" Allura finally asked, after ten minutes of Keith getting Shiro to control his breathing, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but why did you go?"

Shiro turned his head away, frowning; in hindsight, it was stupid, childish even, and even worse to admit it out loud.

"I just- I couldn't take it anymore," he finally said, voice quiet against the beeping of machinery and monitors, "I needed to get away, I-"

"Shiro," Keith interrupted, eyes solemn and serious, "we understand, don't panic."

Slowly, he reached up with his free hand, running fingers through Shiro's sweaty hair, whilst Allura reached across the bed to hold his left hand in hers, smiling up at him gently.

"We just wish you would have told us." She squeezed the flesh hand - the human hand - once, twice, three times. "We're your friends Shiro, trust us."

"I'm sorry," he parroted, licking chapped, dry lips in an attempt to get his words out, but Allura shook her head gently.

"Don't apologise, you were desperate, and desperation does weird things to men."

"Was it worth it?" Keith asked, fidgeting with each of the fingers on the prosthetic, "like, was it okay?"

Well, was it?

He finally saw the sea, got to ride in an airplane and a car and a taxi, shared a bed with the love of his life. They took cheesy selfies on a beach, had fancy hotel breakfast in bed, kissed as the sun set over the horizon in a blaze of fire and beauty.

"Yeah," he replied, small smile gracing his face, "it was fantastic."

Keith had his mouth open to reply when Shiro's phone started buzzing on the bedside table, familiar X-Files ringtone filling the room.

"Do you guys mind if I-?"

Allura shook her head, placing Shiro's hand back at his side. "Coran's waiting downstairs, we should probably tell him you're okay."

"Or save him before he throttles your mom," Keith added with a laugh, squeezing Shiro's hand as he stood, "ring me later, yeah?"

"Of course," Shiro replied, taking the phone off the table as Allura and Keith made their way to the door, "see you guys later."

"We love you, Shiro."

A grin, and a wave of Keith's hand. "Stay safe, please."

And with that, they were gone, leaving Shiro alone with his angrily buzzing phone.

Who was calling him anyway?

A quick tap of the screen showed an unknown number, a string of digits with an unrecognisable area code.  
Well, what did he have to lose?

"Hello?"

 _"Good afternoon,"_ an unfamiliar voice said, stern and controlled, _"am I speaking to a Mister Takashi Shirogane?"_

"You are, can I help you?"

There was a shuffle of papers on the other side of the phone.

 _"My name is Doctor Ulath Marmora, I was your doctor during your stay with us at Galran General Hospital."_  
There was a pause, more shuffling through papers.  
 _"I have some questions about your severe combined immunodeficiency disorder. Your guardian stressed its important upon your discharge."_

"What about it?" Shiro asked, face falling. This Doctor Marmora probably just wanted to use him as a research project, try out another drug to add to his hoards-

_"Well, I can't find any proof stating that you actually have it."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh we’re getting close to the end now folks! I want to say 3-4 more chapters?
> 
> Either way, thanks for sticking with me folks!!!!
> 
> <3 <3


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